


Love Is Not

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: But it’s sweet and a little bitter, Financial Problems, Financial Struggles, It is a very long one shot, Its a little sad but that’s the point, Its not terribly exciting, Ive been wanting to write this for a LONG time now, I’m so sorry, Just Trying To Make It Together, M/M, No other members of Ateez show up, Overworking, Realistic life problems and struggles, Slice of life! Au, Song writing, Struggling Together, They’re Very Much in Love, analysis of non traditional love tropes, and also love, im also sorry about that, suggestive content, they live together for convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Love is not kissing for hours. Love is not cuddles and soft pecks of affection.That is not Love.Love is fighting over where to eat. Love is waiting. Love is being angry and afraid. Love is hurting and being hurt.Love is Staying Regardless of those things.Or: Hongjoong and Seonghwa Love each other.





	Love Is Not

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been waiting to write this piece for a while and I’m so excited to post it! It’s something I’ve been formulating for months now and I finally got around to putting it on paper, so I hope you enjoy this!   
Have an amazing day and let me know what you think of this monster of a one shot~~   
-SS   
(Disclaimer: I am aware that Hongjoong wrote Aurora to be for Atiny, and I am not trying to take away from that meaning or intent. I simply thought the lyrics of it worked very well for my purposes, so please don’t misunderstand that!!)

Seonghwa received the worst text of the day at 9:47 AM, right after he arrived at the office. 

**Joongie** :  _ Got the confirmation for the meeting. Heading over at 4. Wish me luck! _

Seonghwa sighed, letting his head fall until it hit his keyboard, a long line of H’s appearing on the computer, but he just let it happen for a moment. 

A few seconds later, he sat up. 

**Hwa: ** _ Good luck! <3 You won’t need it :) _

There was no response and Seonghwa didn’t expect one. He simply note a mental note to stop by the store on his way home. 

The day dragged by, Seonghwa sitting silently at his computer while coworkers dropped by to chat and request copies of things be sent to them. A normal day. 

But when he left at promptly 6PM, Seonghwa didn’t head straight home. Simply pulled into the nearest convenience store and bought a pint of decently flavored ice cream. 

Maybe it could be celebratory. But Seonghwa was sure its purpose would be for something else entirely. 

He pulled into the apartment complex slowly, almost dreading going up. 

He hadn’t received any follow up texts or phone calls from Hongjoong and that did not bode well. 

He climbed the stairs slowly, fishing his keys out of his pocket- work files and ice cream in one hand and the other fumbling for the right key. He stuck it in, turning the lock, and stepped in quietly. 

The apartment was silent, but Seonghwa saw Hongjoong’s sneakers kicked off haphazardly at the door. He felt pity settle in his stomach as he toed off his own shoes. He padded out of the little entry area that lead directly into their little living room. 

He stopped at the doorway, a sigh on his lips that never fell, chest twisting. 

Hongjoong lay face down on the cough, feet hanging over the armrest and one hand dangling onto the ground, face pressed into the cushions. His laptop was upside down on the floor across the room. 

Seonghwa walked over slowly, trying not to sound as crestfallen as he felt. “Hey,” he greeted quietly, setting the files and ice cream on the coffee table as he sat on it, close enough to pet Hongjoong’s hair comfortingly. 

It was a little dirty, but Seonghwa had more pressing issues. 

“How did the meeting go?” he practically whispered, like coaxing a wounded animal. 

There was a weak, muffled noise into the cushion. 

Seonghwa’s heart ached. “That bad?” he questioned, wincing. 

Hongjoong turned his head to face Seonghwa, cheeks and nose red from being shoved into the couch and his eyes red for other reasons entirely. Seonghwa saw the wetness on the couch cushion. 

“How do you think it went?” he muttered quietly, not meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “The same way it always fucking goes.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes softened. “Hongjoong, it was a good song-” 

“But not ‘the material we’re looking for,’” he muttered bitterly, sitting up and scrubbing at his face. “Not ‘quite the feel that the album was going for’.” He glared at his laptop across the room. “But at least ‘the melody was catchy’.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes were hard and angry, even as silent tears gathered and then fell. 

Seonghwa silently grabbed the chocolate raspberry ice cream and passed it to Hongjoong who took it, more tears falling as his stiff anger didn’t fade. He didn’t even bother wiping them as he ripped the little plastic spoon from the side of the pint, taking a bite that only seemed to make him cry harder. 

Seonghwa watched him sadly for a moment, as he took another bite of ice cream, not looking at the other as he sniffed loudly, coughing quietly as tears dropped from his jaw onto his lap. 

There was nothing Seonghwa could do. Not after so many failures. In the beginning, maybe, he could hold out the ice cream like a peace offering, telling Hongjoong that it was just bad luck, that the next one would work out. 

That quickly stopped being enough as bills came in and very little came back from his endeavors. 

Now, Hongjoong glared, angry and bitter at yet another rejection. 

Seonghwa laid a hand on his knee warmly. “Are you hungry?” 

Hongjoong shook his head, dropping his eyes to stare at the ice cream, blinking more tears that barely missed the frozen cup. 

His lips twisted. “Have you eaten anything today?” The moment he found out about the meeting, he probably shut down. 

And Hongjoong’s lack of any kind of response was answer enough. 

Seonghwa stood, pressing a kiss to the top of his head gently. “I’m gonna make something small, okay?” He left Hongjoong to the living room, pulling out a few things from the fridge for a simple stir fry. 

He had finished cutting the vegetables, when he heard the quiet steps of Hongjoong following after him, holding his ice cream and still stoically angry as he hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling as he glared at the ground. 

Seonghwa said nothing, but was glad for the company as he tossed everything into the pan. 

Hongjoong held out a bite of the ice cream silently, rubbing his damp cheeks against his sleeve, nose red and eyes bloodshot. He looked so fucking pitiful, and it killed Seonghwa to be helpless to stop it, but… there was nothing to be done. 

He took the offered bite, humming in appreciation as he nodded. “I always forget it’s a good flavor,” he said, more to himself, but Hongjoong hummed, staring at it. 

“It’s seasonal for the summer,” Hongjoong murmured, dull and tired. It was hardly a comment, but it was more than angry silence, so Seonghwa felt a little better. 

Seonghwa didn’t bother bringing it to the table, simply handing a bowl to Hongjoong and leaning against the opposite counter, both of them eating in silence. It wasn’t tense or awkward, no. 

Hongjoong wasn’t mad at Seonghwa. 

He was mad at himself for failing once more, even if Seonghwa tried to convince him that it wasn’t failing. 

“I worked my ass off on that one, too,” Hongjoong muttered angrily, taking a vicious bite of stir fry, his ice cream sitting to the side. “He dropped that opportunity on me out of nowhere, and even though I was working on such a tight schedule, he still just tossed it aside.” 

Seonghwa hummed neutrally. “It was a good song,” he assured him. “Another studio will probably want it-” 

“He didn’t even listen to the whole thing,” Hongjoong snapped, huffing and setting his bowl aside with a loud  _ thunk _ . “He got halfway through, stopped it, and said maybe next time.” 

Seonghwa frowned. “That’s fucking rude.” 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong burst angrily, scrubbing at his face. “I could have been working on that other one for HRA studio, but this one seemed like they really wanted me, but I guess I just  _ wasted  _ my time.” 

Hongjoong stayed very still for a moment, before he sighed, his shoulders falling into a less tense slump. He lowered his hands, and the anger was faded into regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes. 

Seonghwa was quiet for a moment before setting aside his own bowl, stepping over to Hongjoong quietly. He stood between his legs, taking his chin gently and lifting it carefully until Hongjoong’s defeated eyes stared back at him. 

They were the eyes of the vicious cycle he and Hongjoong danced in. 

“Stop apologizing,” Seonghwa said firmly, quietly. “You did your best, and it was a good song. If they couldn’t see that, they’ll be shitting themselves when it makes it big somewhere else.” 

Hongjoong only hummed not looking at Seonghwa, eyes dropped low. 

It was always hard to coax Hongjoong out of these slumps. Sometimes, the best thing to do was just let him sleep it off. 

“Hongjoong, I’m serious, it’s a  _ good  _ song. The chorus and everything was-” 

“I know,” Hongjoong cut in quietly. “But it objectively being a good song doesn’t mean shit if no studio wants to buy it.” 

“You don’t have to sell every song,” Seonghwa comforted. “You sold one a few months ago-” 

“You brought work home again,” Hongjoong broke in, looking up at Seonghwa, as if he had just made his entire argument null. 

Seonghwa’s mouth fell closed, lips pressing together for a moment before he swallowed the reactionary defense. “It’s not much. I kept getting interrupted by my coworkers. It’s not even an extra hour-” 

“You don’t even get paid for the shit you bring home,” Hongjoong said darkly. “I should be helping us-” 

“That’s the end of that conversation,” Seonghwa said firmly, stepping away from Hongjoong, but taking hold of his hands. “We’re not going to argue about finances right now. Come on, grab your ice cream.” 

He pulled Hongjoong down from the counter, pushing the pint back into his hands. 

Hongjoong contributed enough. He gave them cushion money. Seonghwa wasn’t bitter about his 9 to 5 (more like a 7 to 6), not when it was a job and it didn’t suck and it gave them enough to live. 

So what if he had to catch up on deadline stuff at home every now and then? (Maybe a little more often than that…) 

Hongjoong looked ready to fight, but it flickered out as Seonghwa pulled him from the kitchen, picking up his papers from the coffee table and telling Hongjoong to grab his laptop. 

Seonghwa threw the papers on their bed, and Hongjoong placed his laptop on his desk, between all his speakers and his soundboard. He still moved sluggishly, but he got changed, stripping off his shirt and pants and putting on sweatpants and a too-large t-shirt he got at a festival. 

Seonghwa changed into his pajamas, too, sliding into bed and turning on the lamp on the bedside table. Hongjoong flicked off the room’s light, leaving only a gentle glow, enough for Seonghwa to see by. 

Hongjoong climbed in beside him, still eating his ice cream as Seonghwa got his papers sorted in his lap. 

Time passed in silence for a moment before Hongjoong asked about his day. 

Seonghwa gave him the boring recount, still working quietly as Hongjoong set aside the empty pint and laid down against the pillow, legs knocking with Seonghwa’s gently. 

Seonghwa glanced away from the extra work at Hongjoong who watched him from beneath the covers. He looked tired, expression slack and dull. 

He bent over, pressing a quick kiss to Hongjoong’s lips. “Good night,” he murmured. 

Hongjoong glanced at the little stack of papers, but sighed, settling in. “‘Night,” he whispered. 

Hongjoong didn’t fall asleep immediately, but by the time Seonghwa set aside the papers he had finished, a couple of hours later, he was snoring gently into the pillow. 

Seonghwa smiled quietly as he put the papers on the bedside table and turned off the lamp, sliding down beneath the covers and placing an arm over Hongjoong’s waist out of habit. 

He lay awake for a little while longer before falling asleep peacefully. 

His alarm rang at 5:30 the next morning, and Seonghwa extracted himself from Hongjoong’s side to turn it off, letting go of a tired breath before forcing himself out of the warm bed. 

Hongjoong slept on, eyes a little swollen from the tears, only curling up slightly into the spot that Seonghwa had vacated. 

~~~~~~~

Love is not kissing for hours.

Love is not picnics in the park and lazy kisses because neither has anything better to do. What life could someone live with such simplicities? Have you ever had a morning where you had so much extra time you could just cuddle? 

That is not Love. 

Love is Fighting over where to eat. It’s sharp words and frustrated groans. It’s not seeing each other for days, working and working, to make money to live, to continue on together. 

And it’s Staying Regardless of those things. 

It’s not Needing to be together constantly. It’s being okay with not sending cute good morning texts. It’s knowing that even though you haven’t seen the other for almost a week, you know they’re still There. 

Waiting for you. 

Love is Waiting. 

It’s crying over work and school and people and having someone there to reassure you, even when it’s Useless. Love is not Fixing everything, it’s Trying to.” 

Love is being Afraid and Angry, and having someone to help you through it. It’s Building up each other’s dreams and attacking those who put them down. It’s teamwork and Turning Back to ensure the other is following. It’s slowing down to wait for them, even if you’re anxious to continue on. 

Love is not Beauty and Perfection. 

It’s Hardship faced together. It’s not understanding the person, but Loving them Regardless. 

It’s not Love. 

It’s Love In Spite Of. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the phone, knuckles paling a little. 

**Hwa** :  _ Need to work late. Don’t wait up. Sorry  _

The tone of the text was fine. In fact, it showed Seonghwa’s annoyance with his own schedule more than anything else. Hongjoong’s annoyance wasn’t directed at Seonghwa, but at… life. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had never been in much danger of losing their apartment or starving without food. There had been some close calls when Hongjoong’s songs fell through for a little too long, but they had always secured a place to live, at least. They were never in danger of starving, even if they needed to count pennies while they shopped. 

But that didn’t mean their little life together didn’t come at a cost. 

Hongjoong stared at the blank mixing screen that didn’t have a single note added to it. The same screen he had been staring at for hours now, absolutely nothing coming to his mind. 

Here he was, sitting on his ass, while Seonghwa worked an extra three hours to compensate for that. 

It wasn’t like Hongjoong wasn’t selling songs. But he was freelance, so people didn’t trust him. And they bought the songs off of him for far less than he ever intended, but when you were desperate, you took what you could get. 

Hongjoong had been sitting around for too long. He wanted to move around, to go somewhere, to get whatever energy was buzzing under his skin out of himself. 

But he could only sit and stare as he forced the mouse to move, putting random sounds together that sounded like a cat dying. He grimaced at his own inability to make anything sound good at the moment. 

Hongjoong kept pushing through, just trying to put down  _ something-  _

A hand on his shoulder made him jump violently, whipping around to see Seonghwa smiling tiredly at him as he tore off his headphones. 

“Why are you still working?” he chuckled. “It’s late.” 

Hongjoong turned back to the computer, seeing a bright 10:36 blinking at him. He frowned, whipping back around to Seonghwa. “Why are you home so late?” he demanded. “How long did they fucking keep you?” 

Seonghwa blinked, looking surprised. “I got off at 9, but one of my coworkers needed help with her car. It wouldn’t start, so I was helping her jump it. I texted you.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped as he whipped back around, finding his phone buried under the sheets of lyrics and wires that filled his desk. He located it, and in fact found the aforementioned text. 

God forbid it had been something important, like Seonghwa broken down on the side of the road. Hongjoong hadn’t even noticed him being gone until ten at fucking night- 

“Sorry,” he said, shame eating his heart. “I- I was just trying to get something down-” 

Seonghwa chuckled, running a hand through Hongjoong’s hair gently. “It’s fine. But I’m tired. You can keep working if you’re onto something.” 

Hongjoong huffed in annoyance, staring at the ugly mash of noise he had sitting on his screen. “I haven’t been  _ onto something  _ all day. I’m throwing shit around to see what sticks.” 

“Well, you can keep throwing shit if you want,” Seonghwa assured him. “But my head is killing me, so I’m gonna try and sleep.” 

“No, go,” Hongjoong said quickly. “You’re supposed to get up early tomorrow- go to sleep. I shouldn’t be much longer, I just want to see what it all sounds like.” 

And Seonghwa just smiled at him quietly. 

That same smile he always gave Hongjoong when he was working. 

The one that convinced Hongjoong that music was something he could actually do. 

The one that made Hongjoong remember why he kept at this. Even with the dying cat noises.

They exchanged a brief, warm kiss that Hongjoong had missed as Seonghwa smiled. “Hopefully, something can be salvaged.” 

Hongjoong didn’t think so, but he put his headphones back on as Seonghwa got ready for bed. 

Hongjoong really should go join him. He hadn’t woken up when Seonghwa got up, like he sometimes did, so this was the first time he was seeing him all day. But if Seonghwa was going straight to sleep, Hongjoong was better off just finishing this up quickly. 

It all sounded like shit, because it was, and Hongjoong resisted the urge to throw his headphones. 

He needed  _ something _ . Everything so far wasn’t good enough. He needed something better. No more half-formed ideas. He needed to finish something. He needed to finish something  _ good _ . That that could actually get them more than a few extra bucks. 

This was not what Hongjoong had imagined when the two of them agreed on everything they would be. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been friends in high school. Good ones. Best ones. 

Seonghwa would sit and do his homework diligently while Hongjoong tapped away at his computer, tearing Seonghwa away to listen to “just this one bit” until the other finally snapped at him to let him work. 

(He still always listened, no matter how he grumbled. He never lied either. The other lied sometimes, trying to spare his feelings, but Seonghwa’s face was an open book that scrunched when something didn’t quite sound right. Hongjoong liked having him listen to them.) 

Seonghwa went to class and paid attention. Hongjoong went to class and scribbled down lyrics that popped into his head during the hours of boredom. Seonghwa would berate him, but let Hongjoong glance over his notes for the test, anyway. 

Seonghwa went to college, like he had always planned to, to get some business degree that would be worth less than the effort Seonghwa would have to put in to get it. 

Hongjoong, who barely managed to pass his way through high school, did not. Hongjoong worked at three different jobs to support himself and his passion. 

Seonghwa quickly grew tired of his stupid, rude, constantly high, college roommates. 

Hongjoong was tired of paying a rent that depleted all the hours a month he spent working. 

The solution was simple and concluded over their every-now-and-then coffee meet ups. 

The two roomed together, and after a long-winded discussion about things they were comfortable with, they decided that they only really needed a one bedroom apartment. It was cheaper, and they had been friends for so long, this was hardly the first time they had existed in such close quarters. 

(Seonghwa tended to spend more time at Hongjoong’s house than his own, especially during the weekend.) 

It was a shitty little apartment that barely had room in the bedroom for a single bed, much less two. So they nixed the ‘getting two beds’ idea and just shared one. 

Seonghwa got used to Hongjoong snoring sometimes- even though he wanted to smother him with a pillow sometimes, and Hongjoong forgave him for his clinginess during sleep- even if he woke up being crushed some mornings. 

They pooled their money to afford rent and groceries and bills. 

Hongjoong worked on his music in between his jobs- but that time was short and randomly placed as his schedules changed, and Seonghwa got off from his classes and worked at some internship for a few hours. 

They weren’t living like kings, but they had a place to live and good company. 

Really good company. The only times the apartment wasn’t filled with their obnoxious laughter was when grades and bills came in. 

(Neither of them were against ripping up pieces of paper and curling up on the floor as they wondered what the hell they were doing with their lives. Neither of them were against sitting on the floor together and trying to encourage the other despite their own back-of-the-mind worries that wound up getting shared through tears and angry pacing.) 

They pushed on, though. 

Seonghwa would make them dinner (ramen, mostly) and Hongjoong would go grocery shopping with his little list. 

Seonghwa berated him for leaving his clothes on the floor, and Hongjoong complained about Seonghwa compulsively straightening his music station every time he passed. 

Hongjoong demanded they watch more action movies on the weekend, and Seonghwa complained they Hongjoong’s choices never had enough romance or plot, like his dramas. 

Hongjoong would come home from whatever late-night work he found- tired and aching and weighing a thousand tons- and Seonghwa would be asleep in the bed, and Hongjoong would secretly be so fucking glad that he wasn’t sleeping alone, Seonghwa’s body already warming the bed. 

(Hongjoong would blame their proximity in the morning on Seonghwa’s need to hug something while sleeping.) 

Seonghwa would get home from classes and collapse onto the couch that Hongjoong already occupied, ranting into his lap about all his stupid professors and their stupid homework. Hongjoong would pet his hair, trying not to laugh sympathetically, until Seonghwa calmed down to face his workload.

Hongjoong would refuse to move from his position on the ground, eyes closed and ears ringing with the same thirty seconds he had been listening to for days without making any progress- Seonghwa dragging him by his arms to the couch and telling him he was going to kill his back if he didn’t move. 

They fought over who had more stress, and they bitched about their bad habits, and they fought until their neighbors banged on their wall to tell them to shut up. 

Hongjoong stayed up with Seonghwa while he crammed for his exams- getting coffee refills and snacks, and Seonghwa would stop by wherever Hongjoong was working to make sure he was still sane- armed with a piece of chocolate and a sympathetic smile for Hongjoong’s aching feet. 

Hongjoong learned Seonghwa’s preferred brands of cleaner and orange juice, and Seonghwa learned how to neaten Hongjoong’s desk without ruining his non-existent system. 

And they lived together. 

For convenience and financial help, and to help out each other as friends. And it worked out. It was good. It was fun, despite the stress. 

And then one day, Seonghwa kissed him. 

There was nothing special about the day. Hongjoong and he were sitting on their bed, talking about their day before they slept, Hongjoong’s legs drawn up as he bemoaned the extra shift he was picking up. Seonghwa’s attention was on him rather than the homework in his lap, listening intently. 

And Seonghwa just kissed him. Hands grasping Hongjoong’s face carefully as lips pressed to his, and Hongjoong had been so shocked for a split moment that he swore he’d never be able to breathe again. 

And then lightning shot down his spine, and he was pulling Seonghwa closer, melting into the embrace despite the weird angle, and Hongjoong felt all the exhaustion melting off of him without realizing it.

Hongjoong was mentally exhausted and the apartment was a little drafty, and he was so tired- he didn’t fight it. Not that he thought he would want to at peak mental capacity anyway. 

“Why did you do that?” he asked breathlessly, lips swollen and red. 

Seonghwa shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you plan on doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” 

“ _ Yeah _ .” 

And Hongjoong had realized that it was something a long time coming. They had been so domestic for years, living and existing together until it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. 

Hongjoong was sure that the two of them had wiped away more tears and spent more hours hugging tightly and fell apart with only each other as witnesses more than any couple ever had. 

They had been caring for and loving each other for  _ years _ . 

Hell, the two of them were practically married already. 

Just  _ as friends _ . 

But it was hardly even a single step to cross the line the two of them had unknowingly been toeing for years. The most obscuring feature being how comfortable the two of them had become with each other- love and trust hidden among their easy friendship that had no boundaries. 

Neither of them thought anything of it when they matched each other’s enthusiasm instinctively or slept curled around each other or held the other for maybe a little too long when stress finally cracked them. 

They had loved each other a  _ long  _ time. 

Seonghwa kissed him two months before he graduated. 

And once he walked across the stage (Hongjoong took off of work to go), he and Hongjoong celebrated back at their little apartment (after Seonghwa pulled away from their friends and successfully avoided his parents) with some cheap alcohol Yunho had gotten him as a congratulations. 

They sat on the floor of the living room, laughing and reminding each other that Seonghwa was never going to have to take another class  _ ever _ . 

They kissed. A lot. A little tipsy, but the cheap beer wasn’t enough to get them drunk, even if Hongjoong felt a little lighter, a little braver. A little brighter. 

“What now?” he gasped between rough kisses in Seonghwa’s lap, the older’s back pressed against the foot of the couch. “You’re not a st _ - _ student anymore.” His head fell back. 

Seonghwa trailed a warm mouth down his neck, making Hongjoong squeeze his eyes shut, throat bobbing. “Dunno,” he breathed against his skin. “Get a job. Maybe move-” A long, sucking kiss against Hongjoong’s throat making him moan lightly- “move somewhere a little better once I save up some stuff.” 

The heat vanished. 

Hongjoong felt like he had just been doused in ice water and he pulled away quickly, blood chilling, straightening and forcing Seonghwa’s lips from his neck as he stared at him. 

“You…” He stomach dropped. “Moving?” he questioned breathlessly.

Maybe he should have expected it. 

Seonghwa needed a job, and there was no guarantee to find one here. He had a college degree now. He was gonna get a nice job and live somewhere better than their shitty apartment they had shared for four years. 

Seonghwa blinked, slow to catch up after the sudden change in atmosphere, and he frowned. “I mean… I figured once I get something saved up… somewhere nicer might be better.” 

Hongjoong felt like someone was slowly constricting his throat. “W-Where did you… have in mind?”

Seonghwa seemed confused, hands burning their shape into Hongjoong’s waist. “I don’t know- wherever my work takes me. I figured we could look in areas that had a good arts scene.” 

Hongjoong’s brows pulled down. “W-Why does the art scene matter if you’re going for office work?” 

Seonghwa looked so lost, eyes searching Hongjoong’s face. “I- I thought you wanted to look into actually selling your music. Places like that might have a little higher rent, but once I’m making a little more, we should be okay. I thought we could look at two bedrooms so you can make one a music room.” 

Hongjoong’s heart shrunk like a vacuum had been placed inside of it and promptly exploded. 

Alcohol or not, tears burned his eyes. 

“You- I’m coming?” 

Seonghwa stared blankly, mouth moving silently. “I-I didn’t think I needed to- to invite you to live with me, I… I figured that was implied.” He swallowed. “I guess- I should have asked. You don’t have to, I just thought… I mean, I was just used to you-” 

Hongjoong kissed him so hard, their lips bruised, his chest slowly expanding to choke him in the best feeling he had ever experienced. Seonghwa held him firmly, grounding him, and it felt like hours where the two of them did nothing but taste each other.

It was different this time. 

It tasted more permanent. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were going to move out of their little shitty apartment and move somewhere together- the two of them, the same as they had always been, but without school and a million jobs dragging them down. 

Of course, it’s easy to be optimistic when you’re tipsy and kissing what very well feels like the love of your life. It’s even easy to think of the best when the love of your life lands a good job and you find an apartment that actually feels like it could be a home (with one bedroom because Seoul’s prices were crazy). 

It was even a good feeling when you’re laying there, all of your stuff moved and your place set up just right for you, kissing and christening the new apartment, both of you so high on life and each other that it feels like nothing in the world can stop you. 

And then… 

Then, reality hits. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa gets a text from Hongjoong, just as he’s sent his own. 

**Joongie** :  _ Just submitted the newest track to that big company. Hopefully it doesn’t eat shit :)  _

**Hwa** :  _ Just got asked to stay late for a project everyone is slacking on. Kill me. Leftovers in the fridge should still be good, if I wind up being that late.  _

Seonghwa winced, sending a quick good luck text to follow it. 

**Joongie** :  _ Again? Why haven’t they asked you to move in yet lol  _

Seonghwa chuckled at the text, but the guilt in his chest only became heavier. He knew Hongjoong was disappointed. Seonghwa left so early, they kept missing each other. This week, they’d only seen each other long enough to catch up about their days briefly before Seonghwa either gave into being tired or Hongjoong threatened him to go to sleep. 

**Joongie** :  _ Want me to bring you anything? _

Seonghwa let out a small, weak breath, lowering his head as he almost crushed his phone in his grip. 

Fuck, he loved that man. 

**Hwa: ** _ No, just leave me some leftovers :P _

He and Hongjoong had been operating like this for a long time now. 

Gone were the days of mindless kissing and having nothing better to do than be entranced with each other. 

But that didn’t mean Seonghwa’s heart didn’t beat out of his chest like they were still tweens living in that shitty apartment. 

_ How  _ they showed love changed, but the base of it all never did. 

And Seonghwa still loved Hongjoong with everything his chest had to offer. 

It was times like this that shone through. 

At the times when Seonghwa was getting home tired every day, Hongjoong angry and frustrated over his deadlines, and both of them missing each other because of their schedules. 

But, still, they persisted. 

The stress may strain them, but it never broke them. 

They had gone through times like this before. It would be just fine. 

Seonghwa got home to a dark apartment, Hongjoong already fast asleep in the bed. Given the fact that he was on top of the blankets, Seonghwa assumed he didn’t mean to fall asleep. 

He smiled as he got changed, climbing in and pulling the blankets over both of them. 

Hongjoong shifted at the movement, eyes opening sleepily. “Seonghwa?” he whispered. 

Seonghwa simply shushed him quietly, tugging him closer until Hongjoong rested beneath his chin. Hongjoong simply fell back to sleep, and Seonghwa took this proximity to compensate for the time he had been missing Hongjoong, burying his nose in his hair. 

~~~~~~~~

**Joongie** :  _ Gonna work with Eden-hyung at the studio today. Won’t be too long. I’ll definitely be home before you _

Seonghwa was delighted when 8 came and no one asked him to stay any longer, so fucking glad to be getting home. He hadn’t received any more texts from Hongjoong, so he assumed he was home. 

But the apartment was dark when he entered, and Seonghwa frowned. There was no way Hongjoong had gone to bed so early. 

“Hongjoong?” he called as he toed off his shoes. Not a single light was on in the apartment. Seonghwa turned them on, but very quickly realized that Hongjoong wasn’t home. 

Seonghwa pulled his phone out, double checking that Hongjoong hadn’t texted him. 

**Hwa: ** _ Are you still at the studio?  _

Seonghwa tucked his phone away and started making some food, lunch seeming a lifetime ago. 

Twenty minutes and no response. 

**Hwa: ** _ Hongjoong? _

**Hwa: ** _ It’s almost nine… Are you going to be much longer? _

**Hwa: ** _ Can you respond so I don’t think you got into a crash? _

**Hwa: ** _ Hongjoong. I just need some sort of response _

**Hwa: ** _ If it turns out you’re just ignoring me to preserve your Flow, I’m going to kill you _

Each text was give a two minute cushion. 

It was entirely possible that Hongjoong just wasn’t looking at his phone. He was always getting lost in his work, especially if he and Eden were getting somewhere. 

But usually… so late at night, after Hongjoong had already told him of a plan to be home early… 

Seonghwa called him. 

Voicemail. 

He called again. And again. He left a message telling Hongjoong to please just text him back. 

Seonghwa wasn’t really worried. The likelihood of Hongjoong actually being hurt was slim to none, and Seonghwa was sure that he was just not looking at his phone. 

But not responding for so long… when Hongjoong was staying so late… 

He shouldn’t miss so many calls unless his phone was silenced and Hongjoong never silenced his phone, knowing how easy it was to miss a call or text… 

Seonghwa set his phone down, trying not to let himself get too worried over it. He made himself a little plate, knowing that it might be a while before Hongjoong responded… 

God, but what if something had happened? 

Seonghwa pushed the plate away, standing. Did he have Eden’s number? He didn’t think he had it in his phone, but maybe he had written it down somewhere… 

If he had, there was no way to find it without knowing where he had written it… 

Seonghwa pulled out his phone, looking up the number of the studio Hongjoong and Eden frequented. 

Three rings and a young woman’s voice answered. 

“ATZ Records Studio- how may I help you?”

“Can I speak with Kim Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked calmly. 

There was a short pause and a quiet hum. “I’m sorry, he currently isn’t in the studio.” 

Seonghwa’s stomach dropped, blood freezing like cold lightning striking his heart, every worst case scenario flashing through his mind in an instant, choking him. “He… He isn’t there?” he asked, voice dropping in fear. 

“No, sir, you just missed him.” 

Seonghwa let out an entirely too loud breath of relief, feeling light headed as he pressed a hand to his heart. “He-He was there, though?” he demanded. “Earlier?” 

“Yes, sir. He and another of our staff left not five minute ag-” 

There was the beeping sound of another call coming through, and Seonghwa jerked the phone away, seeing Hongjoong’s name on the screen. 

“Thank you, goodbye,” he said in a rush, ending the call to pick up the other. “ _ Hongjoong _ .” 

“ _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry _ ,” He said in a rush. “I’m sorry, Seonghwa, I- I didn’t even look at the time- I had my phone silenced because Mingi wouldn’t stop blowing it up and I didn’t even think about it until we called it a night-” 

Seonghwa’s head spun as he steadied himself on the wall. “Hongjoong, you scared the shit out of me-” 

“ _ I know _ ,” he said tightly, begging for understanding. “I know, I’m a shitty person- I shouldn’t have silenced it, I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up in the work, I should have called you earlier-” 

“It-It’s fine,” Seonghwa said quickly, taking a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “It’s okay. I just… Are you on your way home?”

“Yeah, I’m on the subway now…” A short silence. “I’m sorry, Seonghwa- And on the day you finally got off on time-” 

“It’s fine,” he assured him. “Just get home safe, okay? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” 

“No,” Hongjoong answered quietly. “I… I should listen through what we worked on today. Eden wants the feedback tomorrow morning.” 

“Okay…” 

They hung up and Seonghwa sat on the couch, letting every tension fall off as he sank into the cushion. 

God, the moment where the receptionist had said he wasn’t there had just taken ten years off of him. 

Not twenty minutes later, the door opened quietly. Seonghwa opened his eyes, tilting his head to see Hongjoong walking in slowly, looking guilty. “I’m sorry,” he said again, stepping over to the couch. “I must have worried you sick, I’m sorry-” 

Seonghwa held out his arms, and Hongjoong sat on the sofa, leaning into Seonghwa’s chest as his arms locked around him. 

It had been a while since Seonghwa had held him when he wasn’t asleep. 

Hongjoong relaxed into his chest, and Seonghwa allowed his heart to calm. “It’s fine,” Seonghwa assured him, rubbing his back. “I was just worried. I knew that it wasn’t likely something had happened.” 

Hongjoong sighed roughly. “And you were off early, too… We could have watched a movie… or actually eaten together for the first time in a week…” 

Admittedly, Seonghwa was a little disappointed to losing out on the evening, but he knew Hongjoong needed to act when inspiration actually struck. Be it at 3 AM or 9 PM. He didn’t let the disappointment take root, though, forcing it out and offering a gentle smile. 

“How did it go?” Seonghwa questioned, hoping for at least some sort of good news. 

“Not… great,” Hongjoong sighed, pressing his forehead to Seonghwa’s chest. “Neither of our sounds were mashing, and I can’t… I can’t get any lyrics flowing. Eden said I’m trying too hard, but… I don’t know, maybe I need to go one like a nature walk or something…” He huffed in frustration. “This slump is killing me…” 

Seonghwa pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll get out of it. Maybe you just need to try a new Starbucks drink.” 

Hongjoong chuckled lightly, but it was still heavy. “Let’s head to bed,” Hongjoong whispered. “Even if we don’t sleep, I’m tired of being vertical.” 

Seonghwa tried to stay awake while they laid there, but days of working overtime dragged him under way too quickly. 

~~~~~~~

“That… is a lot less than usual…” 

Seonghwa stared at the state of their bank account after rent had been taken and felt his stomach shrivel up at the small amount. 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together tightly, fingers laced with white knuckles. Seonghwa had already double checked everything, and… yes, they were dealing with that much. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa murmured to himself, running an agitated hand through his hair. This was fine. They had worked on a tight budget before. “There’s a new project in the department… If I ask tomorrow, my boss would probably let me in on it. It’ll mean going in earlier, probably, but it should be enough to-” 

“Seonghwa, stop kidding yourself,” Hongjoong broke in with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “You can’t take on more work- you’ve already been working almost 12 hour days, you can’t-” 

“Well, what do you want us to do?” Seonghwa questioned. “I don’t mind the extra work- The project shouldn’t be all that miserable. Until you sell your next song, it’ll be-” 

Seonghwa saw the moment Hongjoong’s eyes darkened. “I’m  _ trying _ , Seonghwa-” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Seonghwa said sharply. 

Seonghwa had  _ never-  _ not  _ once-  _ ever tried to guilt Hongjoong on his songs. Never tried to convince him to take something on the side. Never let himself feel disappointment when the songs were rejected, other than hating how no one else seemed to see the potential the songs held. 

Seonghwa had  _ never  _ felt that way. And Hongjoong knew that. 

Hongjoong scrubbed at his face, not meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “I have to get a job,” he muttered into his hands. 

“You  _ have  _ a job,” Seonghwa fought. 

“Jumping through hoops for agencies that have no intention of ever acknowledging me is not a job, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong snapped. “We can’t keep doing this- We can’t keep struggling every time I have a slump, that’s not fair to you-” 

“It’s the nature of the job,” Seonghwa said firmly, setting his pen down and straightening. “We both understood that when we agreed to this. Just focus on making your music while-” 

“While you’re bending over backwards to get a couple extra hundred?” Hongjoong demanded. “That’s not fair, Seonghwa. I didn’t choose this profession to sit on my ass while you’re killing yourself at an office. If I can’t help keep us afloat, I’m not going to keep-” 

“I went to school to work at an office,” Seonghwa said firmly. “I was ready for that. I knew that there would be times when you weren’t going to sell that much, and I knew we would have to play a balancing game-” 

“That isn’t balancing!” Hongjoong burst, standing. “How is it even remotely fair that I’m sitting here all day, staring at a blank screen, until you get home from work?”

“ _ Life  _ isn’t fair,” Seonghwa said flatly. “I was never under the impression that it would be fair. I didn’t ask you to live with me so we could split 50-50, Hongjoong, I asked so that I could be with you.” 

“But you’re  _ not  _ with me!” Hongjoong fought, self-deprecating and bitter, something fragile in his eyes. “You’re spending all your time in an office while I’m sitting on my ass and calling it ‘waiting for inspiration.’ I’m basically  _ freeloading _ , Seong-” 

“So  _ what _ ?” Seonghwa demanded, expression pinching as he stood as well. “Did you honestly agree for us to live together with the expectation that I would tell you to leave if you weren’t making money?” he demanded. “Is that what you  _ seriously  _ thought would happen?”

Hongjoong groaned, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Of course not, but do you understand how fucking shitty it feels to me? It isn’t going to kill me to work a fucking six hour shift somewhere. Hell- maybe that’ll give me something to actually write about. But  _ nothing  _ is coming of my music right now, Seonghwa. It’s been nearly a month and  _ nothing- _ ” 

He broke off, lips pressed together tightly, eyes dancing between tormented and angry. 

Seonghwa honestly didn’t know how to reach through to Hongjoong. 

“Do you know why I kept with office work?” Seonghwa demanded, voice a bit softer than before. “Even though I hated about half of everything I did with it?”

Hongjoong’s jaw twitched, his posture becoming a little defensive. “Good money?” he said, not even a serious guess. 

“Exactly,” Seonghwa said, and Hongjoong’s brows twitched downward. “It was the easiest thing I could think of that might have the quickest return monetarily. And I  _ wanted  _ that. Because I wanted you to stop having to kill yourself at work and be able to do something you fucking  _ love _ , Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together harder. 

“I want you to be able to do what you love, Hongjoong,” He repeated. “I saw what music did for you, what you felt when you did it, and I wanted you to be able to do that. Without having to worry about not making it big. I wanted to give you that- that thing you love-” 

“I love  _ you _ ,” Hongjoong pressed, expression fracturing. He blinked, and Seonghwa saw his eyes shining, lips stiff to keep his voice steady. “I…” He swallowed, shaking his head slowly. “I love making music,” he admitted quietly. “But not more than I could ever love you, Seonghwa. Not enough that I would try and put it above you- despite how I might make it seem at times.” 

All the times that Seonghwa came home and Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to leave his music alone for twenty minutes to just be with him for a few minutes before bed. 

All the times Hongjoong missed his calls. 

All the times he had to cut their time together short because of inspiration or a meeting at a studio. 

But, despite all the evidence Hongjoong may have provided to the contrary- music, writing, composing- Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong never placed it above Seonghwa. 

Not in his heart. 

“I just want to be able to give you things,” Hongjoong whispered. “I- Maybe I should have gone to college, tried to do it professionally, but I… I know I’m so fucking bad about showing it, but I’m just trying to be able to let us  _ live- _ ” 

Both of them lived with the same mentality: they wanted to be able to continue living together, continue being together. And for the sake of being able to live with the other, they had to work. Work hard. They had to keep missing each other, keep existing in two separate worlds that rarely matched, all for the irony of being able to be together. 

Seonghwa should have became a literary major for how ironic his life was. 

And it broke his heart. 

Because when they were younger, they had all these visions of how their lives would go. When they first moved into their apartment, they would stay up talking about all the things they would make of themselves. 

They had been so optimistic. 

But God forbid Seonghwa ever say he was dissatisfied with his life. 

Hongjoong was here. Hongjoong was always still there, even when they hadn’t seen each other in days. Even without being able to have that perfect life, Hongjoong was still here. 

Even as they sat here fighting, it was testament to the fact they were still  _ here _ . Still loving each other enough to want to strangle each other for wanting to do more for themselves. 

Seonghwa got a good job because he never wanted Hongjoong to have to choose between his passion and survival. 

That mission: Failed. 

Hongjoong chose to spend countless hours pouring over his laptop, hoping for a song to make it big enough that Seonghwa wouldn’t have to work so much. 

That hope: Failed. 

Perhaps, even now, they were living in a little bit of a fantasy- still trying to take things off of the other’s shoulders. 

For now, Seonghwa realized, they both needed to make some sacrifices. 

“You don’t have to get a job,” Seonghwa said quietly. “But if you really want to… I won’t stop you. I am going to take on that project, though.” 

Hongjoong didn’t look happy about it, his expression twisting in regret, but he remained silent for a moment. 

“Fine,” He said quietly. “I doubt I’ll find something more than minimum wage without a degree, so I should have plenty of time to keep working on my music.” 

There was stiffness in the air, both of them hating the situation, but knowing that it was inevitable. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa said roughly. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

It was more an excuse to give the two of them some air than anything else, but Hongjoong nodded. Seonghwa walked past his without glancing at him. 

It wasn’t annoyance or frustration or anger or bitterness in his veins, but some monster combination of everything. 

Hopefully the bonus from this project would be enough. 

Seonghwa knew it was killing Hongjoong to do this. Because Seonghwa, more than anyone else, understood just how much Hongjoong only wanted to make his music, even when it was slow going. It was all he ever wanted to do. Ever since high school. 

And Seonghwa had decided long before the two of them ever kissed that he wanted to be able to let Hongjoong do that. 

A great job he was doing of that. 

Seonghwa got out of the shower, heading straight into bed, sighing heavily and letting his eyes close against the world, cutting off part of the overstimulation he had been suffering. 

Maybe if he just slept he could forget everything. He’d need to make a more concise grocery list. They would probably have to go back to their college diet of ramen. Maybe they could scope out the discount section or try and stretch- 

Seonghwa hadn’t heard Hongjoong come in, but he felt the bed dip with his weight. Hongjoong paused, the weight not moving for a moment, and Seonghwa cracked his eyes open, finding Hongjoong staring at him, conflicted. He was clearly trying to decide whether to go to Seonghwa or lay down at a distance. 

Seonghwa sighed, something in his chest cracking as he spread his arms a little. Barely anything, but Hongjoong’s expression unlocked a little as he lowered himself down at Seonghwa’s side. 

There was still a little space between them, and Seonghwa closed it, rolling to face Hongjoong, arms around him. 

Even despite the fight/not-fight, Hongjoong melted against him, and Seonghwa let the warmth of the other’s body seep into him, breathing out slowly, letting himself relax a little and try to forget. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong murmured against his chest, fingers curling in Seonghwa’s sleeping shirt. “This isn’t what you signed up for. This isn’t what I promised you when we started out… I told you we were going to make it big.” 

Seonghwa’s chest ached, just a little, for that innocence the two of them had had. He kissed Hongjoong’s hair firmly, though. 

“I didn’t sign up for fame and fortune,” he whispered softly. “I signed up for you.” 

Hongjoong’s fist tightened in his shirt. 

“As long as I have that… I’m okay.” Seonghwa was being truthful. Was he happy about it? No. But was the thought of Hongjoong not being here worse than any situation the two of them could face together? Yes. 

Hongjoong tilted his head back, and the two of them shared their first kiss in weeks that wasn’t just a quick peck. 

Seonghwa had missed Hongjoong. He was about to miss him a lot more with both of them being forced to escape the risk of missing a rent. 

But for tonight, at least, both of them had a little bit of time to soak back up the other, like a plant taking in sunlight, storing it for the dark days it knew was coming. 

Hongjoong writhed beneath him for the first time in months, and Seonghwa kissed him so deep he would never forget the taste of him on his tongue. 

Through it all, neither of them ever let go. Never even considered it as they kept trying to pull closer and closer, knowing the times that were coming might try to place more distance between them. 

For now, though, they were as close as any two human beings could be, their names on each other’s lips and bodies connected as Seonghwa sucked love bites into Hongjoong’s neck as Hongjoong pressed gentle bruises into Seonghwa’s arms. 

For now, though, they could pretend this was all they had to do. 

~~~~~~~~

It took three weeks of searching and being rejected and Hongjoong sitting at home in tears as he just begged whatever god would listen to just give him something. Something to get them some money, something that would let him help- 

No college degree and not even his grades in high school to show for it. Even most convenience stores didn’t want him. 

Seonghwa paid the price for his frustrations, Hongjoong being in an irritable mood that he tried so fucking hard to not let slip out because it was no one’s fault- 

But there were still small snaps here and there that ended with Hongjoong apologizing profusely, feeling like the bottom of a fucking shoe as Seonghwa just told him it was okay and making Hongjoong feel even worse. 

Hongjoong learned to keep his mouth shut and stop taking it out on Seonghwa who was already tired when he got home. 

Both of them were just tired. The only times when Hongjoong felt a spark of hope was when he woke up in the middle of the night already in the middle of a breakdown, but encased in Seonghwa (and occasionally completely underneath him). 

What had once been Hongjoong’s biggest annoyance quickly became the most comforting thing he could ask for as he buried himself in Seonghwa, soaking up his body heat like a physical energy source, breathing in his scent and convincing himself that it was okay. 

Seonghwa was still here, so it was okay. They were still here, supporting each other in their stupid ways, sticking together even if Seonghwa could save himself so much heartache by just going to work with his parents, and Hongjoong could live with his mom who was ready and willing to welcome him back. 

But they didn’t. 

They stayed together and they stayed  _ here _ . Stubbornness, love, whatever it was- they fucking  _ stayed _ . Even if they fought over more and more little things, even if their declarations of being tired were tinged more annoyed than usual- 

It didn’t matter. 

Because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter how tired or bitter or angry or annoyed. 

They still climbed into bed together and slept there until life called them out. As long as that continued to happen, they could make it. 

It took three and a half weeks of searching and begging for something. 

Hongjoong landed a job at a small restaurant in the outer edge of the city, waiting tables. 

The woman who hired him called him a very handsome young man and was delighted when Hongjoong said he was willing to work as much as possible. Apparently, they just lost of bunch of student workers, so they were short handed. 

The lady didn’t seem too bad, and apparently there were only two other workers aside from herself, so she had plenty of hours looking to be filled. 

Despite it all, Hongjoong felt a spike of hope like a lightning strike. The place didn’t look too shady, and she offered a little more than minimum wage, telling him to start on the weekend. 

Hongjoong texted Seonghwa that he got the job, and despite everything surrounding it, he felt better about it now that he had actually done it. Maybe he was regretting leaving behind his music, but… in the scheme of their lives, this was infinitely more important. 

If this meant they could have a little more, if they could start saving, if Seonghwa could work normal hours again… then what right Hongjoong have to be upset about it? 

And he wasn’t upset. He was hopeful. It felt weird having a normal job with hours and pay regardless of whether he came up with the next big thing. But it meant stability. And that meant actually being able to afford groceries this month. 

Seonghwa got home that evening, kissing Hongjoong deeply in greeting and congratulating him on the job, asking him to tell him all about it. He looked brighter than he had in weeks, relieved that his search had finally paid off. 

Maybe he was only acting happy to try and make Hongjoong feel less bad about putting aside his music at the time, but when Hongjoong smiled and said that he felt good about it, he wasn’t lying. 

He could put himself aside for once and focus on the two of them. 

Maybe it wasn’t their ideal situation. But it was something, and it allowed them to stay together, so they were happy for it. It gave them food and a place to stay and each other, and that was everything on their list that they needed. 

They were happy for it. For having all their luck line up to allow them to continue on together. 

Dinner was ramen that was spiced up a bit with some veggies tossed in, but Seonghwa was there to eat it with him for the first time in a while, so Hongjoong didn’t care if it was this or a feast as Seonghwa almost choked while ranting about a coworker. 

And over the next few weeks, those little moments became all that really kept them going. 

Those few, shining moments they were together just to share a meal or talk about their day or sit around before falling asleep. 

Because Seonghwa’s project had him going in early and getting home later, and Hongjoong woke up by 8 to don his chicken-themed t-shirt and took the subway to be at work for 10. He sometimes got off by the afternoon, unless there was no one else to work. Then he stayed until 8 or 9 when they closed. 

Given that there were only two other workers, he was working until they closed a lot. 

But it was money. It was okay work, even if his coworkers were snotty college kids (Hongjoong swore that Seonghwa and his friends had never been that bad). The owner was nice, if a big rough around the edges, but she gave him free food sometimes when it was a busy day and he was working late. 

She tutted him to hell and back about how skinny and small he was, pinching his side and asking where all the protection for his organs was. 

She was nice, in a loud, opinionated old lady way. Hongjoong liked her. 

At this rate, though, Seonghwa was home before him most days, texting to ask whether or not he had eaten at the restaurant. 

Hongjoong began saving his food for home, splitting it with Seonghwa when neither of them were that hungry after so long working (and it saved them a couple of dollars from paying for a meal). 

They saw each other even less. Their contact became limited to the moments right before bed. Hongjoong hadn’t even touched his music in weeks, too busy and tired to pay it much attention. He would scribble a stray lyric here and there, but nothing even close to good. 

It was probably good that he was working at this place, rather than staying inside all day with nothing. 

Seonghwa’s back ached from sitting at his computer, and Hongjoong’s feet hurt from standing and walking all day. He never saw Seonghwa longer than the time it took to kiss him goodnight and ask if there was anything particularly horrendous about his day. 

At least. That was usually the only thing Hongjoong heard. 

Hongjoong received a text from Seonghwa that he had gotten home as Hongjoong was reaching the subway after his shift that ended late. 

**Joongie: ** _ I’m almost home, too. Ate at the shop, though  _

There was no response from Seonghwa, so Hongjoong just let his aching neck rest against the seats of the subway until he heard his stop. 

He climbed the stairs, fishing out his keys and pushing the door open quietly, in case Seonghwa had gone straight to bed again. 

The lights were on in the kitchen and living room, but Seonghwa wasn’t in either. He heard his voice from across the apartment, though, muffled and indistinguishable. Hongjoong floated towards their room where the door stood half-ajar, pushing it open a little more to peer inside to see if Seonghwa was having sort of conference call. 

He wasn’t. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to the door and his phone pressed to his ear, shoulders tensed and voice strained. 

“-not the point!” he hissed into the phone. “You can’t just call and expect me to just-” He huffed angrily into the phone, shaking his head. 

Oh. Hongjoong knew that tone. 

He didn’t know why Seonghwa would suddenly decide to pick up his parents’ calls, but they were the only people Seonghwa spoke to like that. 

“You don’t get to say that,” he snapped, fist gripping the blanket. “I’ve been living like this for four years now-” 

Seonghwa’s parents had been a little strict during high school, but not horrible. Seonghwa was a good student and planned on going to college anyway, so it wasn’t like they were forcing anything on him. The issue came in college when Seonghwa told them he loved Hongjoong and was living with him after graduation. 

Seonghwa fell silent, fist shaking. “Not that it’s any of your business, but  _ Hongjoong’s  _ work is going fine,  _ Mother _ ,” he snapped. 

Seonghwa’s parents never called him ‘Hongjoong.’ Usually a slur, but sometimes just something generic like ‘that man.’ And his stomach flipped as he looked at his music station that hadn’t been touched in weeks. 

“Well, he’s not making the kind of songs you hear on the radio, that isn’t a fair-” 

Seonghwa laughed in disbelief, hand coming to cover his face. “Do you really expect me to just give up my life of  _ eight years  _ to go home just because you need a fucking glorified  _ secretary _ ? I have a job, I don’t need you-” 

Hongjoong felt like he should announce himself. Say something. Make a noise. 

He scoffed. “I’m not some paper pusher- It’s not-” His shoulders tensed. “Hongjoong has nothing to do with this,” he said firmly, voice darkening, almost a warning. “I don’t care what you think of his choice of work.” 

Hongjoong felt his hands begin to shake. Seonghwa’s parents had never approved of Hongjoong, ever since high school when he was barely passing his classes. 

Seonghwa was much too smart, much too  _ good  _ to associate- much less  _ live-  _ with a boy who couldn’t even make it through  _ college  _ and thought that music was a legitimate career choice. 

It was the same song and dance. And while neither of them ever paid them any mind… Hongjoong had always sort of seen their point, even if Seonghwa never let him even consider voicing that aloud. 

“I wouldn’t care if he didn’t have  _ any  _ job,” Seonghwa snapped, getting to his feet. “I’d rather live with him in a fucking  _ cardboard box  _ than let you think for one second that I would leave him just because you-” 

Seonghwa turned, agitated, frustrated, his hand carding through his hair roughly, and his eyes fell on Hongjoong, his entire body freezing. 

His expression dropped from annoyed to blank shock as both of them simply stood there, watching each other. 

Seonghwa rolled his lips, never looking away from Hongjoong. “Goodbye, Mother,” he said, not an ounce of emotion there as he lowered the phone, screen going dark. 

Hongjoong felt like he should apologize. Or something. 

But Seonghwa just swallowed thickly. “Hongjoong…” It was pleading for something, but Hongjoong wasn’t sure what. He simply tried to make sure his voice didn’t waver. 

“I didn’t hear much,” he assured him. “I… I should have made a noise, I guess-” 

“Hongjoong- She’s just being a bitch again. It wasn’t-” His eyes traced over Hongjoong’s face, lips rolling slowly. “You can’t actually think she’s right,” Seonghwa said quickly, phone falling from his grip as he tossed it onto the bed. “I don’t know what you heard, and I don’t care, but you can’t think-” 

“I don’t,” Hongjoong said quickly, and perhaps about half-honest. “She wanted you to go home again?”

Seonghwa looked torn between pressing the issue and following Hongjoong’s subject change. He shook his head. “I don’t even know why I picked up- she just kept calling… I was going to just tell her to fuck off, but then she just… kept talking.” His voice dragged down and down, bitter and annoyed. 

Hongjoong hummed, walking towards their dresser. “I guess receptionist is a bit of a downgrade from your job now, though, right?” he asked, immediately regretting the stiffness that his voice took on. 

He tore his work shirt off, letting it fall to the ground as he searched for a pajama shirt. 

“Hongjoong.” 

He shoved aside a long sleeved one, knowing it would be too hot- 

“ _ Hongjoong _ .” 

Seonghwa hands turned him, Hongjoong clutching a shirt between his hands, staring at Seonghwa and trying his hardest not to let anything show as Seonghwa stared at him fiercely. 

“The last person on this fucking planet you should be caring about the opinion of is my mother,” Seonghwa said firmly, eyes sharp and demanding. “You and I have already had this conversation, but I want you to listen closely and  _ remember  _ this.” 

Hongjoong tried to swallow through the dryness in his throat. 

Seonghwa’s hands released his gentle grip on Hongjoong’s arms, sliding down until they threaded through his fingers. 

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Seonghwa hissed quietly. “It doesn’t  _ matter _ , Hongjoong, because you’re going to do it anyway. Who the fuck cares if  _ they  _ think it’s viable? Your passion is worth no less than my degree- I’ve told you that. And I meant what I said. I don’t care if you never sell another song in your fucking life. You keep making music until we’re on the  _ streets  _ for all I care-” 

Seonghwa was begging him, silently. 

Hongjoong felt his hands twitch slightly as he found himself unable to look away from Seonghwa’s eyes piercing into his,  _ demanding  _ that Hongjoong understand. 

“As long you’re with me,” Seonghwa whispered. “That’s all I ever wanted, isn’t it, Hongjoong?” 

_ “What are you planning on doing once you start the job?” Hongjoong asked, placing the plates in their new cabinets. “Gonna climb up to CEO?” He grinned at Seonghwa who was unwrapping the fragile objects from their paper casings.  _

_ “No,” he said assuredly, shaking his head in distaste. “I just want somewhere good enough for us to keep a place to live.”  _

_ Hongjoong snorted as he took another plate. “That’s a rather low bar, isn’t it?”  _

_ Seonghwa shrugged, not looking at him, but watching his own hands unwrap the glass. “That’s all I need.”  _

_ “A place to live?” Hongjoong questioned. “I mean, I guess it’s all you really need.”  _

_ “A place for  _ us  _ to live.”  _

_ Hongjoong paused, glancing down at Seonghwa. “Us…?” _

_ Seonghwa nodded to himself, passing another plate casually. “I don’t need anything else,” he assured him. “I just want us to be able to keep going like this.”  _

_ Hongjoong had tried to find something to say, but all his poetic words failed in that moment. He couldn’t even force out a “Me, too.” He stared at the plate that Seonghwa held out, and Hongjoong wanted to do nothing more than jump down from the counter and kiss him.  _

_ “What about stuff to put in the apartment?” Hongjoong asked.  _

_ Seonghwa shrugged. “Would you leave if we lived in an empty apartment?” _

_ Hongjoong shook his head quickly, and Seonghwa chuckled, looking so fucking serene. “Then, no. I don’t need anything to put in the apartment. Just you.”  _

Hongjoong didn’t believe that woman. 

At least not in the aspect of thinking his work was worthless and he wasn’t good enough for Seonghwa and he was only holding him back. 

None of those things. Those were her talking out of her ass and getting pissed because her son turned out to be gay,  _ and  _ wound up choosing the literal worst type of person in her eyes. 

No, the part that made Hongjoong hesitate was the more obvious part: he hadn’t sold many songs recently, and none of the songs he did wind up selling hardly gave them anything worth the effort he put into them. 

He knew that the work he did was legitimate, but the pay off it was having… the return he was getting… was almost nothing compared to what he could be bringing in with a “real job.”

Something that would stop Seonghwa from having to stay until late at night every day. 

“I know,” Hongjoong said, squeezing Seonghwa’s hand. “And I truly don’t believe her, Seonghwa, alright? She’s nothing but pissed.” His hand shook a little. “But she is right that I haven’t been bringing anything-” 

“A  _ cardboard box _ , Hongjoong,” Seonghwa pressed fiercely, one hand coming up and cupping Hongjoong’s jaw. “Do you hear me, Hongjoong?” he demanded weakly. “I don’t  _ care _ , and I know that  _ you  _ might, but I  _ don’t _ .” 

He brushed along Hongjoong’s cheek gingerly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered intently. “Even if it did- you’re doing something about it. You’re setting aside your passion to help us, Hongjoong. I would never ask you to, but you are, and do you not understand how much that says?”

Hongjoong’s eyes stung. 

He wanted to be able to give so much to Seonghwa. More than he could ever reasonably give. But Hongjoong still lived his life like one day he might be able to formulate something that was worthy of Seonghwa. 

Fuck it- if being able to give everything to Seonghwa meant that he gave up music, he would do it in a  _ heartbeat _ . 

Hongjoong let his head drop onto Seonghwa’s chest, the other’s arms coming around him tightly as Hongjoong let his words soak into his skin. 

He wanted to give him so much, even if right now he could only manage a little over minimum wage and a few lingering kisses they barely had time for anymore. 

He pressed himself into Seonghwa, arms locking around his waist as Seonghwa rocked them, lips pressed to Hongjoong’s hair. Hongjoong was still shirtless, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s hands against his skin was something he hadn’t felt in weeks. It felt nice. Indescribable. 

“I love you,” Hongjoong murmured, muffled into his shirt as he closed his eyes. Only a few droplets of water managed to escape. 

Seonghwa hugged him a little tighter, and that squeezed out another few teardrops that Hongjoong was trying so fucking hard not to let fall. “I love you, too,” he whispered into his hair. “I love you  _ so much _ , Hongjoong.” 

His voice wavered a little, and Hongjoong knew both of them were being stretched just a little too far. Just a little too long. Seonghwa rubbed a warm hand up and down his bare spine, and Hongjoong shivered, goosebumps erupting, pressing into Seonghwa. 

It was late. They should sleep. But Hongjoong pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s neck, and knew that when he blinked, another tear hit his skin. 

Seonghwa lead them both to the bed, laying beneath the covers, shedding his own shirt until they were pressed together, skin to skin- warm and soft and close, even if neither of them had any desire or energy to do anything about it. 

Hongjoong tucked himself beneath Seonghwa’s chin, letting his body wrap around him completely, not wanting a single part of him exposed to the world outside. He pressed damp lashes to Seonghwa’s clavicle and just felt. 

The beat of his heart, the warmth and texture of his skin against Hongjoong’s. The absolute embrace he had around Hongjoong. 

Protective. Safe. As if nothing outside of his body could hurt him. 

Neither of them slept. Hongjoong stayed awake, listening to Seonghwa’s heartbeat and feeling his breathe, his lips brushing Seonghwa’s chest now and then. 

Seonghwa was awake, too, pressing slow kisses to Hongjoong’s hair and neck and shoulder- gentle and asking for proximity rather than intimacy. 

After that, it was a toss up for who got home first and who fell asleep first. About half the time, either Hongjoong or Seonghwa was trying to stay up for the other, but the days weighed on them until they were asleep, only waking up to the other climbing into bed, whispering for them to go back to sleep. 

Hongjoong would sometimes feel the faint sensation of Seonghwa kissing his cheek before he left in the morning, but he was never awake enough to reciprocate beyond a rough “Bye…” that he was sure Seonghwa never even heard. 

Their schedules and habits lined up so perfectly that they almost missed each other every time. 

Hongjoong felt like the only reason he knew Seonghwa was still here was the occasional text about what they needed from the store or when he was going to be home, and the warm body that Hongjoong drew to- more loyal than a magnet caught within range. 

Hongjoong began drawing some form of comfort from the shoes by the door and the bowl in the sink- signs that Seonghwa was still very much here, waiting for him. 

Even if Hongjoong only got to see him while they slept. 

Work dragged on, most of his days lasting until late at night because apparently the owner trusted him with locking up more than she did those college kids. Hongjoong’s body ached, but he couldn’t complain. At least out loud. 

Internally, he cursed his aching feet and back and the fact that it had been days since he had even spoken to Seonghwa, much less kissed him. 

Hongjoong missed him so fucking much, but he knew that eventually they would even back out. They would build back up out of such a concerning hole, and they could back off a little. 

Until then, though, they simply had to grin and bear it and just know that once it was all over and back to normal, the other would still be there. 

Waiting for them.

Even if Hongjoong was missing him horrendously now. Especially when there were bad days that he didn’t have time to begin ranting about because they would take too much of their already limited time. 

Even if he did cry a little on the subway from all the frustrations and pressure building and breaking. Even if he did notice Seonghwa’s eyes being a little red, and both of them just looking at the other helplessly as they tried to whisper some form of comfort to keep the next round of tears away for as long as possible. 

They’d barely seen each other for ten minutes in a row in weeks. 

One day, though, while they were slow and Hongjoong was wiping tables… the door opened. 

He lifted his head, half of his greeting out of his mouth before he choked off. 

It left like someone just kicked him in the gut. 

Seonghwa nodded to the owner lady who succeeded in completing her greeting, glancing at Hongjoong and smiling quietly. Nervously. 

Hongjoong felt like he had stepped into some alternate reality- the sight of the two worlds crashing together something that stunned him into silence. 

There was no one else in the shop. Just Seonghwa standing in the doorway, looking like it was getting harder and harder not to laugh, even if his gaze was still questioning. 

“Oh, do you know Hongjoong?” the owner asked, looking intrigued (or sinister, if you squinted). She laughed, clapping her hands together. “Look at how shocked he is! Oh, that is precious- you surprised him!” 

Hongjoong finally got just enough brain cells to work to speak. “What are you  _ doing here _ ?” he questioned, stepping around the table, rag still twisted in his hands. “It’s only 3, what are you-” 

“We finished up the project today,” Seonghwa said, smiling warmly and looking much too pleased as he chuckled. “Boss sent us home early as a celebration. I figured I should pop in and say hi.” 

Hongjoong’s body was split between wanting to kiss him and wanting to shove him out of the shop. 

“You’re working until 8, right?” Seonghwa asked. Hongjoong nodded dumbly. “Then I’m glad I stopped by.” He smiled privately. “It’s been a while since I saw your face in daylight.”

Hongjoong wet his lips, still trying to convince himself that Seonghwa was standing in his little part time job. The joke was just that- a joke, but it made Hongjoong’s eyes burn a little at the truth of it all. 

“Take a break, Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong looked over at the owner, eyes wide. “I- What?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re dead in here. Me and Hyunjin can manage while you take half an hour or something. Your friend came all the way here- take a break and I’ll get you boys something to snack on.” 

“I- But-” 

She was already whisking back into the kitchen, and Hongjoong stared after her, hand slightly outstretched in surprise. He turned back to Seonghwa. 

He winced sympathetically. “I can bow out while she’s gone,” he offered. “If you don’t want me messing with your-” 

“ _ No _ ,” Hongjoong said quickly, grabbing his hand like Seonghwa was already halfway outside the door. “No, I- I want to. I missed you.” 

It tumbled out, but Seonghwa only smiled warmly, like that was something he had been waiting to hear, making Hongjoong feel like he was standing too close to the stove in the back. 

They picked a table near the back (far from the counter, at Hongjoong’s insistence) and sat at the little table that had most of its room taken up by the little stove. “It’s been a while since we actually went out anywhere,” Seonghwa chuckled, soft and light but something sadder coloring the words. 

It was a mere observation: for as long as Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been missing each other, it had been… God-  _ months _ , since they ever went out anywhere. To eat, to walk, to talk-  _ anywhere _ . 

And while taking thirty minutes off of work to sit with Seonghwa wasn’t exactly a night out on the town- to them it felt like a fucking candlelit dinner. 

“Slow day?” Seonghwa questioned, beginning their usual small talk. 

“A few people coming in here and there,” Hongjoong shrugged, fingers fiddling with the dials on the stove. “I’ve spent most of it cleaning up and avoiding Hyunjin to miss him complaining about his classes. I had enough of that with you.” He glanced up- almost hesitant, but the joke made Seonghwa’s eyes scrunch as he smiled. 

“I earned the right to complain,” he said firmly. “Those professors were assholes.” 

“And you were a little whiny bitch,” Hongjoong snorted. “Do you realize how many of my shirts you stretched out while you were yanking on me?” 

Seonghwa laughed, shoving Hongjoong’s arm roughly. “They were so  _ boring _ .” 

“And I’m sure you were the spice of life,” Hongjoong said sympathetically, reaching over to pat Seonghwa’s hand mockingly. 

But Seonghwa just kept smiling, flipping his hand and lacing his fingers through Hongjoong’s gently. 

Hongjoong’s smile faded abruptly, looking down at their joined hands. 

Seonghwa’s hand was warm, compared to Hongjoong’s that was cold from the air conditioning of the restaurant. His thumb brushed over the back of Hongjoong’s hand and his skin broke out in goosebumps as he looked back up at Seonghwa’s smile. 

And Seonghwa was looking at him That Way. 

The one that made Hongjoong want to fucking puke because of how fucking adoring it was. The physical sign Hongjoong had to support Seonghwa’s claim that all he needed to be happy was Hongjoong. 

That gentle, serene smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth- like he didn’t even realize he was smiling- but that made his eyes glow like the golden air at sunset.

Hongjoong’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

“I’ve missed you,” Seonghwa said, and it wasn’t sad. Wasn’t regretful. Just gentle. A reminder that his absence had been noted. A reminder that Seonghwa wished he could see him more. Not bitter. Just a statement. 

Hongjoong swallowed around the thing blocking his throat. “I…” He wanted to suggest that they make a date night. A night where they go out. A night where they just put work and survival aside and focus on themselves for once. 

He wanted to be able to see Seonghwa again. To be with him without the time limit of exhaustion and work pressing against them. 

But, realistically, that couldn’t happen right now. 

“When things settle down,” He said instead. “We should go do something. Just something small, but…” He swallowed as Seonghwa’s hand tightened around him slightly. “But we should do something… for the two of us.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes were shining. “The project-” 

The kitchen door opened, and the owner came out, holding a small basket of chicken and a little tray of side dishes. 

Hongjoong jumped at the sudden intrusion, as she hurried over to the table, setting the two dishes down, smiling. 

“Now, that is precious,” she said, cooing at their joined hands. “I remember my husband used to meet me for lunch  _ every  _ day at the ramen shop I worked at. I couldn’t get him a discount or anything, but he bought ramen every day just to eat with me.” 

She sighed nostalgically, shaking her head before focusing back on the two of them staring at her. “You two have fun. Keep Hongjoong as long as you like. I’ll get him if I need him.” 

She whisked away before Seonghwa could thank her or say anything else. He stared at her in shock for a moment before turning back to Hongjoong. 

“She isn’t usually like that,” Hongjoong assured him, looking at the food. “She’s nice to us, but she hits the customers with spoons and stuff like that. Nothing quite so… soft.” 

Seonghwa nodded, lips kicking up as he looked at the table. “Well… free lunch, I guess?” 

Hongjoong chuckled, nodding. 

It was… probably exactly what they needed. 

There wasn’t much food, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Seonghwa was laughing and smiling so fucking genuinely, and Hongjoong was echoing that. 

Hongjoong used to write songs about Seonghwa. 

He never made a real one about him. Mostly just beats and half-written lyrics that were so cringy and over-poetic that they never saw the light of day. Seonghwa hadn’t even seen all of them. 

But Hongjoong used to be so fucking lost in everything Seonghwa did that he couldn’t help the way his music-oriented mind had automatically set Seonghwa to music. 

Particularly his smile. His laugh. His expressions. His touches. 

Okay, so many it was a little bit of everything. 

He still did it. Less frequently. Maybe not even often. But regardless of what he wrote, the back of his mind was always putting Seonghwa to music. Even without writing a single thing down, those melodies were ingrained into his mind. 

Because Seonghwa was fucking beautiful and the only thing that made everything worth it. 

All the uncertainty and regret- the ache in his chest that came from forcing himself away from his passion, the ache in his muscles that came from working, the pit in his stomach that asked what they were going to do next, the fear about what awaited them day after day- 

All of it was worth it. 

Because all of it was for Seonghwa. For them. 

Regardless of what Hongjoong wanted for his music, it all was second to Seonghwa. 

And Hongjoong hadn’t realized how much he had been missing until he and Seonghwa had a chance to talk for more than ten minutes. Part of their conversation was focused on work, but after that it was just… talking. 

About the drama episodes Seonghwa had been missing, about the last song Hongjoong had worked on a week ago, about Eden’s messages to him, about Seonghwa’s neck pain… 

The two of them had a full hour to themselves before a family entered the restaurant, greeted by the owner. 

Hongjoong glanced over and she caught his eye. Hongjoong knew it time to wrap this up. He held up five fingers, expression pleading, and she nodded, offering a gentle smile. 

The two of them stood, Seonghwa’s expression falling slightly as he realized their time was up. “Come on,” Hongjoong said, moving towards the door. 

Seonghwa followed, Hongjoong throwing one more grateful look to the owner as he and Seonghwa stepped outside, out of view of the windows of the restaurant. 

It wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, the months passing slowly, but it was still warm as the two of them stood off to the side for a moment. Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s hand, blowing out a quiet breath. 

“You have to get back to work,” Seonghwa chuckled quietly, brushing a piece of hair back. His fingers lingered where they brushed against his temple, his eyes on Hongjoong softening. “I really… I missed this,” he murmured, expression gentle enough to make Hongjoong’s gut twist. “I’ll see you at home, okay?” 

Hongjoong nodded, watching Seonghwa’s expression shift and change as he leaned forward, kissing Hongjoong’s forehead. 

It used to drive Hongjoong insane. He would bat and swat at Seonghwa, telling him not to do that because it made him feel fucking short. 

Hongjoong leaned into it, waiting for him to pull away before pushing up the small distance to kiss him properly. It was short, sweet because of the public setting and the fact that Hongjoong was currently at  _ work _ . 

Seonghwa still smiled. “I’ll wait up for you,” he said as he backed away. 

Nothing sounded fucking better. Hongjoong nodded, waving goodbye as Seonghwa walked down to the car. 

Hongjoong rushed back inside, hopping on to help serve the family so the owner could stop doing his job. Hongjoong fell back into the rhythm, pushing Seonghwa to the back of his mind so he didn’t start grinning like a fucking maniac in front of the customers. 

Once they left and Hongjoong was clearing the table, the owner tutted from her position at the payment counter. “I can’t believe you’re so scrawny but managed to land such a nice husband. Maybe there’s hope for my daughter after all…” 

Only fear of the repercussions of it kept Hongjoong from dropping all the dishes in his hands, turning to stare at her like a deer in headlights. “I- No, we’re- we’re not actually-” 

He held up a hand, showing his fingers, and she simply snorted. “Who cares if there’s a ring on it or not?” she laughed. “That man looked at you like you were his world and you looked at him like he hung the stars.” 

Hongjoong felt his face heat as he gathered more utensils, wondering how the hell this became his work environment. “That’s not-” 

“The two of you were cute.  _ Happy _ ,” she assured him, resting her chin on her hand. “Makes me think of when my husband was alive…” 

Hongjoong paused where he was stacking a little plate, straightening slowly as he glanced over at her inconspicuously, almost suspecting a trap. “Were the two of you happy?” Hongjoong questioned. 

She looked at him, as if touched that he would ask, her usually stern expression softer. She smiled quietly. “Yes,” she said confidently, nodding. “Yes, we were very happy. Even if we struggled.” She gestured around the shop. “You know we put everything we had in this shop? He wanted to be a lawyer. Promised that he’d make us a lot of money. He failed the entrance exam.” 

Hongjoong shifted uncomfortably, wondering where he’d heard  _ that  _ before. The restaurant seemed a little stuffier than a moment ago. 

But she laughed to herself, as if this was the funniest thing she could imagine. “He failed, and he was so depressed,” she told him sadly. “It almost broke us, that test… But I told him it was no good moping over something that would only put us into debt.” She patted the counter. “But we put everything we had into this little shop.” 

Hongjoong glanced at the vacant tables. “Was it very popular before?” They got their usual lunch crowd and a bunch of regulars, but nothing crazy. 

She snorted, clutching her chest as she laughed. “Popular? Oh, no,” she assured him, snickering. “No, we had just enough business to keep us from failing. We worked ourselves to the bone because we couldn’t afford to hire anyone at first.” She clicked his tongue, expression falling slightly. “Of course, we weren’t our youngest… And restaurants have a lot of heavy labor.” She looked at him with sad eyes that were at peace. “A stroke,” she said simply. 

Hongjoong felt like he was frozen in place. 

She chuckled to herself. “He left me to run this place by myself.” She shook her head. “What a bastard, am I right?” She grinned at him, a little more spark. “You know, we never had enough money a day in our lives?” Her eyes shone. “But  _ by God  _ were we happy.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, hands tight on the bowls, heart slowly being clenched by an invisible fist. 

“You two are doing it right,” she assured him, nodding knowingly. “You two don’t have much, but you’re happy.” 

“How do you know we don’t have much?” Hongjoong asked before he could stop himself. “I mean- I never said-” 

“No person comes in looking like you unless they’ve got a big hole to fill and nothing to put in it,” she stated, absolutely sure of herself. “And no one looks at each other like the two of you… unless you’re all you have.” 

All they had… 

She straightened, wiping under her eyes. “Go home,” she said, smile gentle and eyes shimmering. 

Hongjoong blinked, heart stopping. “W-What?” 

She shook her head, pointing to the door. “You heard me,” she rasp, voice thick. “Your husband’s waiting for you. God knows when the last time the two of you had time. You’ll still get your pay until eight,” she assured him. “Just go see your man, okay?” 

Hongjoong felt like a rug had just been tugged out from under him. “I- I can’t-” 

“ _ Hell _ , you can’t,” she snorted roughly. “ _ I  _ can’t see my husband. Go see yours.” She waved her hands sharply. “I’m not saying it again, boy-  _ Go _ !”

More out of reactionary measures than anything, Hongjoong put the bowls down, mouth flapping. “I-” 

“Go,  _ move _ , leave-” 

“ _ Thank you _ .” It came out more like a burst of air, Hongjoong not entire sure what else to say, what else to do. 

She grinned. “Thank me by asking your husband if he has any more friends who want scrawny people to fall in love with. My daughter isn’t getting any younger.” 

Hongjoong let out a rush of reassurances before he was stumbling out of the restaurant, feeling like he was walking through a dream as he rushed towards the subway station. 

It wasn’t even five o’clock yet- 

He texted Seonghwa from the subway. 

**Joongie: ** _ She told me to go home, so I’m on the subway…  _

The reply came almost a minute later. 

**Hwa: ** _ Did she fired you??? _

**Hwa: ** _ Was it because I came in?  _

Hongjoong quickly responded before he could get any more concerned. 

**Joongie: ** _ Not fired lol. I’ll explain when I get home  _

Hongjoong practically ran up the stairs, the area looking different not seeing it in the dark of night when he usually got home. 

The door was unlocked when he tried it, and Hongjoong hurried in, feeling something bubbling in his stomach. 

Seonghwa stood up from the couch, expression torn between worry and surprise. “Why did she send you home?” he asked quickly. “Was it because of both of us? She didn’t seem like she minded- She told you-” 

Hongjoong kissed him. 

Seonghwa cut off, a confused sound in his throat, but it didn’t stop him from placing his hands on Hongjoong’s hips, and Hongjoong felt something expand in his chest, slowly cutting off his air supply. 

All they had… 

Really, it had been true for so long. Ever since college. Ever since those first days of rooming together for convenience. 

They had their jobs and their money and their grocery lists, but all of it- every single action and event- all was done for the other. All of it only happened because they had the other. 

They relied on each other so wholly that there was no way either of them would have ever made it on their own. 

Could Seonghwa support himself on his own? Yes. 

Could Hongjoong find enough work to make it by himself? Yes. 

But did either of them ever want to give up this life? No. 

Better struggling together than to be comfortable alone. 

Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa closer, lips warm and soft and willing even through his confusion. Hongjoong pulled away just enough to stare at Seonghwa- his dark eyes and concerned expression and soft skin that Hongjoong hadn’t touched in so long. 

“I love you,” he said, chest aching. 

“I love you, too,” Seonghwa assured him. “But is this some preface to bad news?” 

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head as he rested his head on Seonghwa’s chest. The other’s arms came up around him like a blanket- a shield- naturally. Even when nothing was wrong, Hongjoong felt like nothing could touch him within Seonghwa’s embrace. 

Hongjoong explained what happened after Seonghwa left, never extracting himself from the other’s arms, even when they moved to the couch, Hongjoong curling into his side- soaking up every moment they had right now. 

“That’s… heartbreaking,” Seonghwa murmured into his hair. “It was wonderful of her to let you go, though… and keep paying you regardless.” 

Hongjoong hummed, feeling Seonghwa’s heartbeat under his fingers that wrapped around his arm. It was warm. 

They sat in silence for a while. 

And Hongjoong… he couldn’t remember the last time they had sat together without a need to speak, to try and fill in their time together with the moments each of them had missed. 

He didn’t feel the urge to fill each second that ticked by. 

Hongjoong laid his head against Seonghwa’s chest, and both of them simply… sat there. Tired from their days, but not so bone exhausted after coming home early, knowing that they had an evening to do with their choosing. 

Hongjoong didn’t know how much time passed, but neither of them rushed it, Seonghwa simply shifting slightly. “Hungry?” 

It had only been a couple of hours since their snack in the shop… but it had been a long time since Hongjoong had done anything with Seonghwa. Even something as simple as making ramen. 

“Sure,” Hongjoong agreed, going to pull away, but Seonghwa pulled him back down, pressing a long kiss to his lips that Hongjoong smiled into, smacking Seonghwa’s arm as he succeeded in pulling away and standing. “Tempress,” he muttered. “I merely agreed to a meal, but you are attempting to trap me with your wiles.” 

Seonghwa stood, taking Hongjoong hand and tugging him back against his chest and smiling so… 

God, it was just so  _ genuine _ . So fucking  _ happy _ . Something so deep and ingrained in Seonghwa’s eyes that it hardly even needed to reach his lips for Hongjoong to see. 

Their noses brushed, Seonghwa’s eyes light and dancing. 

“Well, if your will is weak enough to be tempted by such innocent wiles-” 

“Shut up,” Hongjoong snorted, pulling them both towards the kitchen. “How much ramen do we have left?” 

It was so familiar, the motions they fell into, as if no time had passed where they were practical strangers. 

Hongjoong perched himself on the counter, watching as Seonghwa boiled the water. 

(While they waited, Seonghwa stepped between Hongjoong’s legs and pressed warm kisses against his jaw and neck, making Hongjoong hum happily.) 

Seonghwa pulled away when the water almost boiled over, putting the rest of the ingredients in. 

(While they waited, Seonghwa kissed him properly, tongue roaming Hongjoong’s mouth lazily, making Hongjoong’s toes curl.) 

They overcooked the noodles by the time Seonghwa pulled away, but who the fuck cared? 

“I’ll plate it,” Hongjoong said, pushing Seonghwa’s mouth away from his collarbone (regretfully). “Go find something we can watch.” He tried to scoot off of the counter, but Seonghwa still stood between his legs. “Seonghwa, move, I gotta-” 

Seonghwa gripped his thighs, pulling him forward and off the counter. Hongjoong yelped, wrapping arms around Seonghwa’s neck and his legs hiking up around his waist. Seonghwa chuckling as he kissed Hongjoong’s neck before letting him fall to the ground. 

Hongjoong caught himself, and smacked Seonghwa’s chest. “Go pick something,” he scoffed, turning to the ramen and grabbing bowls. 

Surprisingly, Seonghwa already had something up as Hongjoong entered with the bowls. “A drama?” he whined as he sat on the couch. 

“I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Seonghwa said, unapologetic. 

Hongjoong sighed, but just sat back with his food. 

It was generic- stupidly sweet and ideal in all aspects, save for those conveniently messy parts that drove her and the lead male together. 

Hongjoong found it more of a comedy than a romance. 

Bowls empty, the two of the curled up together, a throw blanket shared between them as Seonghwa asked if he wanted another episode. 

It was only seven. Why the hell not? 

Seonghwa was warm and comfortable, even as he shifted around during the tooth-rottingly sweet moments. 

It was continuously difficult to worry about the future when this was his present. 

Seonghwa wrapped around him, warm and safe and solid, keeping Hongjoong from drifting off into those dark places that threatened his sanity. 

The what-if’s and the until-then’s. The far future of what life they were building and the near future of their next grocery trip. 

It all bounced off the shield Seonghwa threw around him unknowingly but intentionally. 

That brightly colored shield, reinforced and painted in the bright yellow of Seonghwa’s laughter at the antics on screen The deep violet of Seonghwa’s touch trailing up and down his side The crystalline stars of Seonghwa’s eyes that reflected the colors of the TV. The crisp crimson of Seonghwa’s lips that pressed to his hair absentmindedly- second nature, at this point. 

It all danced together. 

(Hongjoong really needed to start writing some lyrics before he just set his entire life to music.) 

It all blocked out the darkness around them, placing a small little light that Hongjoong knew was his safe haven. That Hongjoong knew was the one place he could stop worrying and simply exist in the stupid drama with Seonghwa and him resting around each other. 

They fell asleep like that. Both of them too lazy and comfortable to get up and turn off the drama, so it played as background noise until they both dropped off peacefully. 

Still wrapped around each other. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa got home late. 

_ Late  _ late. 

The project was done, so he didn’t need to go in quite so early, but apparently while his focus was elsewhere, things had gone to hell back in his department. Seonghwa spent the better part of two days trying to clean up the mess. 

Everything was back in order though, and he was proudly walking out of the door at 9:30. 

He dragged himself into the apartment by 10, sure that Hongjoong must have fallen asleep already. 

Their little evening off was still seared into his memory, but that’s all it remained. A memory for Seonghwa to close his eyes and breathe in until the onslaught of panic at his workload set in. 

Seonghwa at least hoped Hongjoong had eaten first. 

But rather than finding the apartment dark and Hongjoong tucked into bed, he stepped inside to find the lights on and Hongjoong hanging upside-down off the couch, a notebook held loosely in his hands and a pen between his lips as he stared off blankly. 

Seonghwa had to laugh. 

_ “What on earth are you doing while I’m away?” Seonghwa demanded, coming into the apartment and finding Hongjoong hanging off the couch, legs in the air.  _

_ Hongjoong turned to him, face red from the blood flowing the wrong way, a notebook resting on the ground. “Inspiration.”  _

_ “Having you head hurt is going to give you inspiration?” Seonghwa snorted as he dropped his bag by the couch, tilting his head to see Hongjoong better.  _

_ Hongjoong huffed, tapping the notebook. “Everyone has already written about the world we see from right-side-up. If I want to think of something good, I need to look from a different perspective.”  _

_ “Hongjoong, I think they meant more from the eyes of another person… or maybe thinking about what it would be like to live differently. Not hanging off the couch.”  _

_ “Art is interpretive,” he shrugged.  _

_ Seonghwa poked his slightly exposed stomach, and Hongjoong cried out dramatically, curling up and ultimately winding up on the ground, hitting his head on the carpet.  _

_ “Asshole!” he snapped, sitting up and placing a hand on his head, expression dropping. “Okay- ow, the world is spinning.”  _

_ “That’s what you get for trying to find inspiration as a bat!” Seonghwa laughed. “Don’t use weird positions that are going to kill your brain next time!”  _

_ He still found Hongjoong like that. More like an old joke than a real attempt at gaining inspiration. _

“What are you doing?” he asked, chest warming at the sight he hadn’t had the displeasure of walking in on since college. 

“Inspiration,” Hongjoong answered flatly, staring at the ceiling. 

On the page the notebook was turned to, he saw almost every inch of it covered in scribbles and doodles. 

Seonghwa couldn’t help the way something warmed in his heart. 

Hongjoong doing what he loved was always something Seonghwa wanted to see. 

“Anything good?” he asked, sitting on the coffee table, tilting his head to see the notebook. 

Hongjoong made a choking sound, snatching the book away, the movement upsetting his balance and sending him tumbling off the couch. He closed the book, sitting up with a red face, tilting at the head rush. 

“No, I- Okay, spinning- spinning-” 

Seonghwa bit back a stupidly endeared smile as Hongjoong breathed, eyes closed to get his head to straighten out. “Better?” he chuckled. 

Hongjoong opened his eyes, looking more coherent. “Better. Anyway,” he said, drawing the notebook back in. “It’s nothing concrete yet,” he said firmly. “It’s not ready to be looked at. But…” He swallowed. “I haven’t touched music in a while… I feel a little less burnt out. A little less desperate, you know, since I have the other job…” 

Hongjoong’s eyes dropped to the book, soft and hopeful. “It… it almost feels like doing it for fun again,” he said quietly. “Now that… now that I’m not so panicked about it being the only source of money… you know?” 

He glanced up, and Seonghwa’s heart was going to fucking melt as he cupped Hongjoong’s jaw, feeling his eyes sting a little. “I’m glad you found that again,” he whispered thickly. 

Hongjoong came alive when he composed. 

And Seonghwa had fallen for that spark  _ so  _ fast. And it wasn’t that Hongjoong ever really lost it, but seeing it here- natural and genuine and blazing now that it wasn’t his source of stress… it made Seonghwa want to fucking cry because he hadn’t really seen that Hongjoong since college. 

He kissed him slowly, Hongjoong clinging firmly, and Seonghwa trying his hardest not to give in to the part of him that always wanted to ignore their lives and just exist in Hongjoong. 

Forget jobs and money and bills and just spend an eternity kissing and feeling and loving. 

Of course, this could never happen, but Seonghwa dragged it out a little longer before pulling away, Hongjoong looking a little awed as Seonghwa smiled gently, heart about to fucking burst. 

“Have fun with it,” was all he asked. 

Hongjoong nodded. “I just started throwing some things together today because we were dead,” He said quickly, like he needed to explain. “It’s just phrases, but maybe over the next few days I can clean it up a little. I don’t know, it’s probably just nothing-” 

Seonghwa let him speak, going on in general terms about how whatever it was was just a little something, nothing even close to a complete verse yet- 

And Seonghwa felt like he was falling all over again. 

Who the fuck cared if they hadn’t seen each other in days? 

That was still the man Seonghwa fucking loved. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa got used to Hongjoong working on his music again. 

The owner lady hired another couple of people, which meant Hongjoong was sent home in the afternoon. At first this cut in hours concerned them both to the point of being terrified, but after a few weeks, it didn’t look like a very sizable blow had been dealt. 

They simply tightened their belts and worked on. 

(They got into an explosive argument over the dishes that hadn’t gotten done and the laundry that had piled up in their busy days, both of them taking a couple of days to work through their bitterness enough to smile at the other again when they saw each other. Life moved on.) 

Hongjoong used the new free time to try his hand at music again. 

Seonghwa loved to stand in the doorway, before Hongjoong noticed him with his headphones on, and watch him quietly. 

The rise and fall of his mouth, the bob of his head, the pinch of his brow- all while his fingers tapped over keyboards and dragged the mouse around. 

The sharp glint in his eyes when a sound came together. 

Seonghwa’s heart twisted in the best way possible as he finally drew close enough that Hongjoong noticed. He slid his arms over his shoulders, leaning against him and looking at the screen. 

“How’s it coming?” he would ask. 

And rather than talking about how he just needed ten more minutes, Hongjoong would already be saving his work, shutting it down for the night as he explained how his flow had been going. 

“I think…” He stared fearfully at the screen. “I think I might actually have something decent?” He said it like he didn’t want to jinx it. 

Seonghwa smiled proudly, softly, gleefully- kissing his cheek. “I’m glad.” 

And Hongjoong would leave his music for the night when Seonghwa got home. They would get ready for bed together, talking quietly, until they laid down, Hongjoong always automatically gravitating towards him until he was settled in Seonghwa’s arms. 

And they would lay there until they fell asleep. 

“Aurora…” Hongjoong murmured, so quietly Seonghwa almost missed it. 

He frowned. “What?” he asked, half-asleep. 

“Nothing,” Hongjoong said quietly, settling against him. “I love you.” 

Seonghwa felt warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips. “I love you.” 

More work, more catching up, more sleeping, more life. 

(Hongjoong had to lock himself in the bathroom to resist slamming the apartment door and running out of here, so fucking fed up Seonghwa getting on his ass about leaving his clothes on the ground- which were stressing him out- and telling Hongjoong to put them away- which was stressing Hongjoong out. Seonghwa was asleep by the time he got out, and even if Hongjoong was still mad, it had gotten too cold to sleep on the edge of the bed.) 

They moved on, and so did life, arguments and fights hitting them like rocks and sliding off like water on a duck. 

Hongjoong was curled up under the covers, shivering until Seonghwa got in as well. The heat was off- an expense they couldn’t afford- but slowly, their bodies warmed their space until it was bearable. 

“I think… I might be done the song,” Hongjoong confessed into Seonghwa’s neck. “I’m… I’m gonna look over it and send it to Eden to look at, but… I think I might try and see if it’ll sell.” 

Seonghwa squeezed him until Hongjoong squeaked out his inability to breathe. 

“Do it,” Seonghwa told him firmly. “I haven’t seen you dedicate this much time to a song in a while.” 

Hongjoong hummed, rubbing his cold nose into Seonghwa’s chest to warm it. “I… I’m hopeful…” 

That was something he hadn’t been in a long time. 

Seonghwa kissed him, both of them remaining wrapped as close as possible as snow fell outside their window. It was still freezing in their room, but it was easier to ignore with the distraction of each other. 

Seonghwa felt hopeful, too. 

The cold months had been worse than the summer- in terms of their moods souring and turning bitter like the snow. But Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to beg whatever God was listening that this did  _ something _ . 

He didn’t want Hongjoong to lose more of that spark. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong submitted the song during the weekend, and Seonghwa found him almost crying in the couch when he got home. 

“Hongjoong-” 

“I can’t think about it,” he said in a rush, breathing deeply. “Oh my god, I’m just thinking about all the stupid parts of it- I can’t deal with this-” 

Seonghwa hugged him tightly, pressing their bodies together like a weighed blanket until Hongjoong stopped seeming close to hyperventilating. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” He rubbed his back, rocking them gently, hoping it was enough to comfort him. 

Hongjoong’s cheeks were damp as he laughed wetly, almost bitterly, into Seonghwa’s chest. “I don’t know why I didn’t do this before,” Hongjoong said thickly. “It’s so fucking easy to write all those dumb love songs about you.” 

Seonghwa frowned. “What does that mean?” he questioned, running fingers through Hongjoong’s hair carefully. 

Hongjoong pulled away, eyes red and swollen as he scrubbed the tears off of his cheeks. “The song,” he said, voice thick and heavy. “The one I submitted, it-” He sniffed weakly. “It’s about you.” 

Seonghwa felt like he had just been sucker punched. “About… me?” 

Seonghwa knew Hongjoong had written little songs for him before. Back in college. Seonghwa had heard a couple of them- his heart fucking melting. (Most of these moments wound up with them kissing on the couch for hours as Seonghwa felt like he was falling apart and becoming one giant mess.)

Hongjoong hadn’t written one for him since he graduated. Not since music became his job instead of his passion. 

And the first one he makes after so long… is for Seonghwa? 

Hongjoong scrubbed the tears away, digging his phone out of his pocket and opening it, shifting things around until he pushed it at Seonghwa. “I… I had been thinking about us a lot,” Hongjoong said roughly. “I… I never would have survived these months without you, Seonghwa,” he confessed, looking up with heavy eyes. “You make everything worth it.” 

Seonghwa felt like he might start bawling. He took the phone carefully, glancing at Hongjoong once more, who looked away, and dropped his eyes to the notes page on his phone. 

His hand shook a little as he read through the lyrics. They were surprisingly simple. Not a lot of flowery language or long prose. 

Just simple, concise statements. 

_ I don’t need to be afraid because you were here in the dark.  _

Seonghwa’s breath caught as he moved along the short lines. 

_ As a star, you shine onto me, and become a big source of light for me.  _

He let go of a shaking breath, his eyes stinging as he glanced at Hongjoong who still didn’t look at him. 

_ Even if everything tonight loses its light, I’ll go find it whenever, by your side.  _

Seonghwa swallowed, blinking and feeling hot tears racing down his cheek. 

_ Protect me, my aurora.  _

Aurora. 

Protect me. 

Seonghwa didn’t know where Hongjoong’s phone wound up. Didn’t know where it went and honestly didn’t care. Didn’t know when he moved or who even moved first. 

But Hongjoong was beneath him, pressed into the couch as Seonghwa kissed him, tears falling from his face onto Hongjoong’s skin. 

Or maybe those were Hongjoong’s tears, too. 

Seonghwa kissed him until he couldn’t breathe, neither of them pulling away, gasping in short breaths rather than risking the action of pull apart. 

Hongjoong’s hands slipped beneath the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt, warm hands running over the skin there. Seonghwa sucked on his tongue, warmth and warmth and  _ warmth-  _

“I love you,” they gasped into skin and heat. 

Seonghwa was going to fall apart. He could feel it, tugging at his skin, begging him to just let everything go. But he held it together. He forced it to remain together as he kissed down Hongjoong’s neck and listening to him gasp his name. 

How long had it been since they had had time for even this? 

How did it not make a single difference? 

Who fucking cared how long it had been, Seonghwa still loved Hongjoong so much it was terrifying. 

He wrote and submitted a song for him. 

Seonghwa wanted to laugh and fucking sob, so long with the two of them running in circles, almost avoiding each other, strangers in their own homes, never able to give more than passing affection that felt rushed. 

But Hongjoong wrote a song for him. 

Hongjoong loved him enough to submit a song that was about him. 

Seonghwa loved him enough to try and show him what that meant to him. 

Neither of them intended it. But for once, neither of them cared that it was almost ten at night and they had to be up early. 

What did it matter if Seonghwa was tired for work tomorrow- Hongjoong wrote him a  _ song _ . 

Hongjoong had taken that most intimate part of himself and pushed Seonghwa into it-

They didn’t even bother leaving the couch, simply reaching under clothing quickly, seeking out that intimacy they had been deprived of for so long- 

And it slowed. 

Gasps of their names devolved into hoarse whispers of “I love you,” “I missed you,” I love you,” “I missed you-” 

Fuck the rest of the world. This moment was theirs. 

Hongjoong was his, always his, they had promised- 

Seonghwa never had that perfect life they had dreamed together, but he couldn’t imagine that it could ever feel as good as this. As getting to hold Hongjoong again after so long, getting to love him after so long, getting to kiss him how he pleased, getting to move without regard to time or exhaustion. 

Like finally taking a breath. Like a splash of water on a dry, hot stone. Like plunging into a crystal clear pool that could see straight down, down, down- 

Seonghwa was drowning in Hongjoong and he never wanted to be saved. 

And when they were done, still curled on the couch (that would need to be cleaned, but that was for later), neither of them moved. 

Hongjoong tucked himself against Seonghwa, and Seonghwa held him in his arms, both of them with their tears still drying on their cheeks as Hongjoong laughed quietly beneath him. Almost inaudible. 

Seonghwa lifted his heavy head to try and see him. 

And Hongjoong was chuckling to himself as tears continued to fall from the corners of his eyes. 

Seonghwa brushed them gently. “What is it?” he asked gently, looking for a trace of discomfort. 

But Hongjoong just stared up at him, unbothered by the tears that kept gathering and slipping out. “I missed you,” he said, voice shaking with laughter and everything else. “I missed you so fucking m-much, Seonghwa…” 

The laughter broke into soft cries as he ducked his head into Seonghwa’s chest, and Seonghwa just held him tightly, letting go of a short breath that made his heart ache. 

Seonghwa hugged him tightly, curled around him like- 

Like an aurora. 

It didn’t feel sad, though… Their tears weren’t sad. They were relieved. Happy and relieved and crying out for the other that they had sacrificed so much for… just to have this. 

This right here. 

It was a slow process to stand, both of them just a little emotionally vulnerable and fragile, a few more tears slipping out here and there as they made their way to the shower. 

The only stayed long enough to wash themselves off and step out, not even bothering with clothes as they collapsed into bed, clinging together like two magnets that couldn’t be separated, wrapped around each other until you couldn’t see where one began and one ended. 

It wasn’t the perfect, lazy sex that they imagined they would be able to have every week because that’s what people said they should do. 

But it was what they had and that made it good. 

~~~~~~~

**Joongie: ** _ Heading to the meeting… The owner lady was really nice about the last minute time change. She just gave me the rest of the day off. You might get home before me, since it’s such a late meeting _

Seonghwa splurged and picked up two pints of ice cream on his way home. 

He felt a little different about it this time. 

Hongjoong was, in fact, not home when he got home, and Seonghwa just put the ice cream in the freezer and looked to see what they had aside from ramen. Maybe a stew? 

There was the sudden sound of what seemed like a door being broken off its hinges. 

Seonghwa jumped, whipping around, clutching at his chest in shock- 

“ _ Seonghwa _ !”

The voice was Hongjoong’s but it was hoarse from how hard he shouted. Seonghwa ran from the kitchen, almost prepared to find someone chasing him- 

Hongjoong leapt into him, lips already bruising Seonghwa’s- 

Seonghwa’s hands scrambled to support Hongjoong who was hanging off of him, legs crushing Seonghwa’s waist and hands in his hair- 

Enough distance was created between their lips that Seonghwa could gasp out- “Meeting went-” Another kiss- “Well?”

Hongjoong pulled away and- 

God, he was glowing, smile so wide it must hurt and his eyes exploding like violent suns as he dropped off of Seonghwa, chest heaving like he had been running. “You- I- They-” He couldn’t speak around his stuttered breathing, but then he was shoving a paper Seonghwa hadn’t noticed into his hands, panting and shoving it until Seonghwa took it. 

It was a contract with Hongjoong’s signature on it. 

And that was a lot more zeros than they were used to seeing for one of his songs. 

Seonghwa’s mouth dropped as he looked up at Hongjoong who was already crying, fists clenched at his sides as he bounced on the balls of his feet, looking ready to explode. 

“They took the song?” Seonghwa asked dumbly, voice hoarse. 

Hongjoong nodded quickly, looking like he didn’t quite believe it either, but light pouring out of his eyes in tears. “He- He said it was- He liked it- it was-” Hongjoong let out a noise that either could have been pained or jubilant, so much inside of himself trying to remain contained and burst out at the same time. 

Seonghwa was suddenly hugging him, both of them spinning in a circle in their living room. 

Seonghwa felt like he was floating and drowning at the same time, Hongjoong clinging to him, half-laughing and half-sobbing into his neck, the contract laying on the ground, dropping from their hands. 

“You did it, you  _ fucking  _ did it, you did it, Hongjoong-” 

So what if it wasn’t necessarily “making it big?” Who the fuck cared- it was a song, it had been sold, and it was more than Hongjoong had ever made on any of his songs. 

“It was your song,” Hongjoong said in a rush against Seonghwa’s neck. “It was all about you, what you did-” 

“We did,” Seonghwa reminded him, finally slowing until he was just holding Hongjoong against his chest, face hidden in his hair. “What we did.” 

Hongjoong shook a little. 

It had been over six months since he had touched music. And the first song after that-  _ Seonghwa’s  _ song- was accepted. Was  _ successful _ .

“I fucking love you so much,” Hongjoong cried into his neck, fingers clinging and digging into his shirt and skin. His breathing shuddered as he tried to keep it calm and failed. “I love you so much, Seonghwa-” 

“I love you, too,” he assured him, sure that he was crushing Hongjoong, but unwilling to loosen his hold, feeling every tremor of his muscles. “I’m so fucking proud of you-  _ I love you _ , Hongjoong-” 

Hongjoong dragged him down, kissing him over the tears on his lips, hard and fierce but slow, just reaching further and further, trying to get closer and closer- 

A million things raced inside their minds and chests and hearst- all of it trying to escape and break free and- 

Seonghwa let it this time. 

He had no need to be embarrassed as he cried while he kissed Hongjoong, all of… 

Everything. Months. Almost a year at this point. Months of life building up with too little of Hongjoong to clear it away, spilling over and dragging Seonghwa further and further down until all he could feel was the ache in his chest and Hongjoong pressed against him. 

It wasn’t like he was the only one. 

Both of them could barely kiss over how hard they cried, taking slow, purposeful movements towards the bedroom, laying on the bed carefully, hands firm but soft- like they didn’t know which they wanted to be. 

For the second time in a week- more than they had done in months- the two of them fell together, falling into each other as easily as if they had been doing it repeatedly throughout the months of the past. 

It was like riding a bike. 

You never truly forgot how to love someone. 

And Seonghwa still knew every crevice and plane of Hongjoong’s body, tracing them with his hands and tongue without needing to think about it, tracing and breathing out a constant stream of “I love you,” “I’m so proud of you,” “I missed you,” “I love you-” 

Hongjoong whined and writhed beneath him, trying to tug him to go faster, but pushing at him to draw it out, to make it last. 

Seonghwa took his time. 

For once, he would make time. 

Now. Did this little spurt of money fix everything?

Of course not. They never thought it would. 

But it was never about finding a Fix-All. The point of their lives wasn’t to find that thing that would make it so that they never had to work another day in their lives- no, absolutely not. That would be a waste of time, effort, and each other. 

It was nice to dream that it might happen, but neither of them truly held out hope. 

No. The point was to keep going. It was to find anything and everything that they could throw against the fire of life raging after the, threatening to consume everything they had. In the grand scheme of their lives, was it a lot of money? 

Not really, no. 

But at the moment, where they were struggling night and day to stay afloat- did it mean that, if they were smart about it, they could pull away from work slightly? 

That they could both stop working twelve hours and actually have their lives back? 

Yes. 

Did it end their cycle? Their round and round of falling into holes and struggling to get out of them? No, it did not. 

But, for now, it gave them room to breathe, and it had been  _ so long  _ since they could breathe. 

It gave them a little bit of security. A little peace of mind. A little comfort. A little cushion. 

The money Hongjoong just received made them no richer than they had ever been. 

But they didn’t need to be richer. All they needed was enough money to live off of. Enough money to stay together. Enough to ensure they could have each other… and nothing else. 

This money wasn’t for a new TV or a better car. 

It was for them. For them to finally become reacquainted with each other after so long. 

Would they, some time down the road, fall back into another hole? Would they face another long year of struggling day to day, wondering how the hell it could all be worth it?

Most definitely. 

Were they prepared to face that again?

No. 

Would they face it- together- regardless?

You bet your fucking ass. 

~~~~~~~

Rent and car bills and utilities and groceries and fees and gas and subway rides… 

It added up against them. 

And at the cost of their time spent together, at the cost of their sanity and stomachs and health and intimacy, and at the cost of everything (Not each other. Never each other.)- 

The two of them fought back. 

It was slow going and on going. Because as soon as you made enough to cover a bill, it was gone and you started all over again. 

It was the most straining year of their lives. 

Exhaustion ate away at them until it felt like they hadn’t ever rested well. Irritation at life and the little things around them built up. Fight were common- over groceries and hours and food. 

There were so many times when one of them simply left and locked themselves in the bathroom until the urge to strangle the other wasn’t quite so dangerous. 

And maybe they went to bed angry, not speaking, and facing different direction in the bed. Maybe the spent a couple of days ignoring each other- sure that they were over the spat, but remembering it the moment they saw the other’s face- and maybe it weighed on them  _ so fucking heavily _ . 

But it never broke them. 

There was no storming out of the apartment. There was no ignoring a text that asked where you were. There was no spiteful jabs or bitter actions taken against each other. 

Only bitter silence until one broke while they lay in bed and moved just that much closer to the other- not an apology, but a peace offering. 

And maybe it was accepted. 

Maybe it was rejected. 

But at one point or another… the stress became too great and it put things back in perspective. 

They were all they had. 

And maybe it was done reluctantly and silently, a bitterness still clinging to their hearts, but once it was accepted and reciprocated, it was always okay. 

They were always okay. 

Would Seonghwa have liked the life they dreamed? The one where he worked and came home on time. The one where Hongjoong made his music and it was good enough for people to see. The one where they paid their bills and went on date nights every other weekend to keep their romance alive. 

The one where they made love every night. 

The one where they had time and energy to get lost in each other’s bodies mindlessly, without thinking about work the next morning and how tired they would be. The one where Seonghwa could wake Hongjoong up with lazy kisses and they could relax in the bed before heading off the work much too late. 

The one where they stayed up late and danced around their living room and kitchen. (People seemed particularly fond of the dancing at night… Seonghwa never really understood why, but he never questioned it.) 

The one where Seonghwa could afford to take a day off just to spend with Hongjoong. The one where their life was perfect and didn’t try every path it could to tear them apart. 

Would Seonghwa have liked that? Yes. 

Was that something that could ever  _ possibly _ happen?  _ Now _ , he realized, the answer was no. Even if he had hoped it might be ‘yes’ through his time in college. 

Did that mean Seonghwa hated their life now? 

Absolutely not. 

It was easy to stay with someone through the easy times. It was easy to claim love and devotion when the most effort you’d need to put in was remembering what kind of ice cream they liked when they had a breakdown (Hongjoong’s was berry-flavored, by the way). 

It was so easy to stay together when all you needed to do was exist together. 

Did it give Seonghwa the most bursting sense of satisfaction when he and Hongjoong stood together and spit in life’s face together? 

_ Fuck yes _ . 

Through poverty and threats of homelessness. Through anger and bitterness and lost dreams and fights and shouts. Through work and separation and exhaustion. Through late nights and never enough money and never enough time and never enough energy. 

Through  _ each other _ . 

They fucking clung together. Scrambling for handholds and friction to slow their fall, but they fucking never let go. 

The grip loosened and shifted as their lives progressed, but not once- 

_ Never fucking once-  _

Did they ever let go. 

It was easy to love in the easy times. 

It was the hard times that tested and tried and threatened and scared you. And  _ nothing  _ felt better than when Seonghwa looked over in the middle of the night and Hongjoong was still there, sleeping soundly after running around at work all day. 

When he came home at all hours of the night to a quiet apartment, but there Hongjoong was, curled up on top of the blankets. 

It was easy during the good times. 

Try saying ‘I love you’ when you’re so angry and frustrated, you feel like you never want to see the other person’s face again. 

Try peppering gentle kisses when you haven’t seen them in a week and it feels like you’re living with a stranger, both of you missing so much of each other’s lives, you wonder when you even knew them. 

Try cooing out soft compliments and praises for the person you love despite the fact that the due date of your bills is tomorrow and you’re still fifty dollars short. 

Seonghwa couldn’t say that he and Hongjoong always did this. They didn’t. 

But not once did they tap out. 

They never left. 

Never decided to take the easy road. 

Never let go and told the other to figure it out on their own. 

They fucking dug in their heels against the world and each other. They clung and clawed and fought their fucking hardest. 

And at the end of it all, they were Still There. 

They were still in Love. 

Not the soft love with lazy mornings and forehead kisses and having cups of coffee waiting for the other when they woke up. 

Seonghwa was convinced that love wasn’t real. It was impossible to have. 

But low risk brought low returns. A love built in softness and gentle easiness was bound to fail when things started going downhill. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa had fortified their love in Fire and Time and Curses. If their Love survived this long, then there was nothing that could break it. Nothing that could threaten it. 

They had climbed to hell and back together, and that Love never wavered. 

Never once did that though waver in his mind. 

Despite it all, despite every attempt to tear them Apart, despite every Fight, despite every angry Yell, despite every week of Solitude, despite the work hours and Sacrifices, despite the Anger and the tortuous agony of Missing each other day after day after  _ Day…  _

They still Loved. 

They still Loved In Spite Of it all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for surviving that massive single chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, but please let me know your thoughts in the comments!   
Have an amazing day, lovelies!  
-SS


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